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HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 



. 'I 

CONDENSED NOVELS. 



BY 



BRET HARTE. 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY S. EYTINGE, JR. 




BOSTON: 
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, 

Late Ticknor 8l Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. 

1.8 7 I . 







;*- 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 
BY BRET HARTE, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washingtc 



University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
Cambridge. 



CONTENTS 



PaG3 

Handsome is as Handsome does. By Ch s E — de 1 

Loth AW. By Mr. Benjamins 19 

MucK-A-MucK. After Cooper . . . . .36 

Terence Denville. By Cli— 1 — s L — v— r . . 49 

Selina Sedilia. By Miss M. E. B— dd— n and Mrs. 
H— n— y W— d 59 

The Ninety-Nine Guardsmen. By Al — x — d — r 
D— m— s 74 

The Dweller of the Threshold. By Sir Ed— d 
L— tt— n B— Iw— r . . . . " . . .86 

The Haunted Man. By Ch — r — s D— ck — ns . 95 

Miss Mix. By Ch— 1— tte Br— nte . - . . .110 

Guy Heayystone. By the Author of " Sword and 
Gun" 127 

Mr. Midshipman Breezy. By Captain M — rry — t, 
R. N 139 

John Jenkins. By T. S. A— th— r ... 154 



IV CONTENTS. 

Ko Title. By W— Ik— e C— 11— ns . . . .163 

N N. Being a Novel in the French Paragraphic Style 177 

Faktine. After the French of Victor Hugo . . .184 

"La Femme." After the French of M. Michelet . 193 

Mary MCQillup. After Belle Boyd. AVith an Intro- 
duction by G. A. S— la. 200 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

By CH S R DE. 



CHAPTER I. 

The Dodds were dead. Eor twenty year they 
had slept under the green graves of Kittery church- 
yard. The townfolk still spoke of them kindly. 
The keeper of the alehouse, where David had 
smoked his pipe, regretted him regularly, and 
Mistress Kitty, Mrs. Dodd's maid, whose trim 
figure always looked well in her mistress's gowns, 
was inconsolable. The Hardins were in America. 
Raby was aristocratically gouty ; Mrs. Eaby, re- 
ligious. Briefly, then, we have disposed of — 

1. Mr. and Mrs. Dodd (dead). 

2. Mr. and Mrs. Hardin (translated). 

3. Eaby, haroii ct femme. (Yet I don't know 
about the former ; he came of a long-lived family, 
and the gout is an uncertain disease.) 

1 A 



2 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

We have active at tlie present writing {ylacc 
aux dames) — 

1. Lady Caroline Coventry, niece of Sir Fred- 
erick. 

2. Faraday Huxley Little, son of Henry and 
Grace Little, deceased. 

ScqiiituT to the above, A Heko axd Heroine. 



CHAPTER II. 

On the death of his parents, Faraday Little was 
taken to Eaby Hall. In accepting his guardian- 
ship, Mr. Eaby struggled stoutly against two 
prejudices : Faraday was plain-looking and scep- 
tical. 

" Handsome is as handsome does, sweetlieart," 
pleaded Jael, interceding for the orphan with arms 
that were still beautiful. " Dear knows, it is not 
his fault if he does not look like — his father," 
she added with a great gulp. Jael was a woman, 
and vindicated her womanhood by never entirely 
forgiving a former rival. 

" It 's not that alone, madam," screamed Eaby, 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 3 

" but, cl — ra it, the little rascal 's a scientist, — an 
atheist, a radical, a scoffer ! Disbelieves in the 
Bible, ma'am; is full of this Darwinian stuff 
about natural selection and descent. Descent, for- 
sooth ! In my day, madam, gentlemen were con- 
tent to trace their ancestors back to gentlemen, 
and not to — monkeys ! " 

" Dear heart, the boy is clever," urged Jael. 

" Clever ! " roared Eaby ; " what does a gentle- 
man want with cleverness ? " 



CHAPTER III. 

Young Little ivas clever. At seven he had 
constructed a telescope; at nine, a flying-ma- 
chine. At ten he saved a valuable life. 

Norwood Park was the adjacent estate, — a 
lordly domain dotted with red deer and black 
trunks, but scrupulously kept with gravelled roads 
as hard and blue as steel. There Little was stroll- 
ing one summer morning, meditating on a new 
top with concealed springs. At a little distance 
before him he saw the flutter of lace and ribbons. 



4 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

A young lady, a very young lady, — say of seven 
summers, — tricked out in the crying abominations 
of the present fashion, stood beside a low bush. 
Her nursery-maid was not present, j)0ssibly owing 
to the fact that John the footman was also absent. 

Suddenly Little came towards her. " Excuse 
me, Init do you know what those berries are ? " 
He was pointing to the low bush filled with dark 
clusters of shining — suspiciously shining — fruit. 

" Certainly ; they are blueberries." 

" Pardon me ; you are mistaken. They belong 
to quite another family." 

Miss Imj)udence drew herself up to her full 
height (exactly three feet nine and a half inches), 
and, curling an eight of an inch of scarlet lip, said, 
scornfully, " Your family, perhaps." 

Faraday Little smiled in the superiority of boy- 
hood over girlhood. 

" I allude to the classification. Tliat plant is 
the belladonna, or deadly nightshade. Its alka- 
loid is a narcotic poison." 

Sauciness turned pale. "I — have — just — 
eaten — some ! " And began to whimper. " O 
dear, what shall I do ? " Then did it, i. e. wrung 
her small fingers and cried. 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 5 

"Pardon me one moment." Little passed his 
arm around her neck, and with his thumb opened 
widely the patrician-veined lids of her sweet blue 
eyes. " Thank Heaven, there is yet no dilation of 
the pupil ; it is not too late ! " He cast a rapid 
glance around. The nozzle and about three feet 
of garden hose lay near him. 

" Open your mouth, quick ! " 

It was a pretty, kissable mouth. But young 
Little meant business. He put the nozzle down 
her pink throat as far as it would go. 

"i^ow, don't move." 

He wrapped his handkercliief around a hoop- 
stick. Then he inserted both in tlie other end of 
the stiff hose. It fitted snugly. He shoved it in 
and then drew it back. 

Nature abhors a vacuum. The young patrician 
was as amenable to this law as the child of the 
lowest peasant. 

She succumbed. It was all over in a minute. 
Then she burst into a small fury. 

" You nasty, bad — ugly boy." 

Young Little winced, but smiled. 

"Stimulants," he whispered to the frightened 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 



nursery-maid who approached ; " good evening." 
He was gone. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The breach between young Little and Mr. Eaby 
was slowly svidening. Little found objectionable 
features in the Hall. " This black oak ceiling and 
wainscoating is not as healthful as plaster ; be- 
sides, it absorbs the light. The bedroom ceiling 
is too low ; the Elizabethan architects knew noth- 
ing of ventilation. The color of that oak panel- 
ling which you admire is due to an excess of car- 
bon and the exuvia from the pores of your 
skin — " 

" Leave the house," bellowed Eaby, " before the 
roof falls on your sacrilegious head ! " 

As Little left the house, Lady Caroline and a 
handsome boy of about Little's age entered. Lady 
Caroline recoiled, and then — blushed. Little 
glared; he instinctively felt the presence of a 
rival. 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 



CHAPTER V. 

Little worked hard. He studied night and 
day. In five years lie became a lecturer, then 
a professor. 

He soared as high as the clouds, he dipped as 
low as the cellars of the London poor. He ana- 
lyzed the London fog, and found it two parts 
smoke, one disease, one unmentionable abomi- 
nations. He published a pamphlet, Avhich was 
violently attacked. Then he knew he had done 
something. 

But he had not forgotten Caroline. He was 
walking one day in the Zoological Gardens and he 
came upon a pretty picture, — flesh and blood too. 

Lady Caroline feeding buns to the bears ! An 
exquisite thrill passed through his veins. She 
turned her sweet face and their eyes met. They 
recollected their first meeting seven years before, 
but it was his turn to be shy and timid. Won- 
derful power of age and sex ! She met him with 
perfect self-possession. 



8 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

" Well meant, but indigestible I fear " (he al- 
luded to the buns). 

" A clever person like yourself can easily cor- 
rect that " (she, the slyboots, was thinking of 
something else). 

In a few moments they were chatting gayly. 
Little eagerly descanted upon the different ani- 
mals ; she listened with delicious interest. An 
hour glided delightfully away. 

After this sunshine, clouds. 

To them suddenly entered Mr. Raby and a 
handsome young man. The gentlemen bowed 
stiffly and looked vicious, — as they felt. The 
lady of this quartette smiled amiably, as she did 
not feel. 

" Looking at your ancestors, I suppose," said Mr. 
Raby, pointing to the monkeys ; " we will not dis- 
turb you. Come." And he led Caroline away. 

Little was heart-sick. He dared not follow them. 
But an hour later he saw something which filled 
his heart with bliss unspeakable. 

Lady Caroline, with a divine smile on her face, 
feeding the monkeys ! 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Encouraged by love, Little worked hard upon 
his new flying-macliine. His labors were lightened 
by talking of the beloved one with her Frencli 
maid Therese, whom he had discreetly bribed. 
Mademoiselle Therese was venal, like all her class, 
but in this instance I fear she was not bribed 
by British gold. Strange as it may seem to the 
British mind, it was British genius, British elo- 
quence, British thought, that brought her to the 
feet of this young savan. 

" I believe," said Lady Caroline, one day, inter- 
rupting her maid in a glowing eulogium upon the 
skill of " M. Leetell," — "I believe you are in love 
with this Professor." A quick flush crossed the 
olive cheek of Therese, which Lady Caroline after- 
ward remembered. 

The eventful day of trial came. The public 
were gathered, impatient and scornful as the pig- 
headed public are apt to be. In the open area a 
long' cylindrical balloon, in shape like a Bologna 
1* 



10 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

sausage, swayed above the machine, from which, 
like some enormous bird caught in a net, it" tried 
to free itself. A heavy rope held it fast to the 
ground. 

Little was waiting for the ballast, wdien his eye 
caught Lady Caroline's among the spectators. The 
glance was appealing. In a moment he was at 
her side. 

" I should like so much to get into the machine," 
said the arch-hypocrite, demurely. 

" Are you engaged to marry young Eaby," said 
Little, bluntly. 

" As you please," she said with a courtesy ; " do 
I take this as a refusal ? " 

Little w^as a gentleman. He lifted her and her 
lapdog into the car. 

" How nice 1 it won't go off ? " 

" No, the rope is strong, and the ballast is not 
yet in." 

A report like a pistol, a cry from the spectators, 
a thousand hands stretched to grasp the parted 
rope, and the balloon darted upward. 

Only one hand of that thousand caught the 
rope, — Little's ! But in the same instant the 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 11 

horror-stricken spectators saw him whirled from 
his feet and borne upward, still clinging to the 
rope, into space. 



CHAPTER VII.* 

Lady Caroline fainted. The cold watery nose 
of her dog on her cheek brought her to herself. 
She dared not look over the edge of the car ; she 
dared not look up to the bellying monster above 
her, bearing her to death. She threw herself on 
the bottom of the car, and embraced the only 
living thing spared her, — the poodle. Then she 
cried. Then a clear voice came apparently out of 
the circumambient air : — 

" May I trouble you to look at the barometer ? " 

She put her head over the car. Little was 
hanging at the end of a long rope. She put her 
head back again. 

In another moment he saw her perplexed, blush- 
ing face over the edge, — blissful sight. 

* The right of dramatization of this and succeeding chapters 
is reserved by the writer. 



12 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

" 0, please don't think of coming np ! Stay 
there, do!" 

Little stayed. Of course she could make noth- 
ing out of the barometer, and said so. Little 
smiled. 

" Will you kindly send it down to me ? " 

But she had no string or cord. Finally she 
said, " Wait a moment." 

Little waited. This time her face did not 
appear. The barometer came slowly down at 
the end of — a stay-lace. 

The barometer showed a frightful elevation. 
Little looked up at the valve and said nothing. 
Presently he heard a sigh. Then a sob. Then, 
rather sharply, — 

" Why don't you do something ? " 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Little came up the rope hand over hand. Lady 
Caroline crouched in the farther side of tlie car. 
Fido, the poodle, whhied. " Poor thing," said Lady 
Caroline, " it 's hungrv." 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. ♦ 13 

" Do you wish to save the dog ? " said Little. 

" Yes." 

" Give me your parasol." 

She handed Little a good-sized affair of lace 
and silk and whalebone. (None of your " sun- 
shades.") Little examined its ribs carefully. 

" Give me the dog." 

■ Lady Caroline hurriedly slipped a note under 
the dog's collar, and passed over her pet. 

Little tied the dog to the handle of the parasol 
and launched them both into space. The next 
moment they were slowly, but tranquilly, sailing 
to the earth. 

" A parasol and a parachute are distinct, but not 
different. Be not alarmed, he will get his dinner 
at some farm-house." 

" Where are M^e now ? " 

"That opaque spot you see is London fog. 
Those twin clouds are North and South Amer- 
ica. Jerusalem and Madagascar are those specks 
to the right. 

Lady Caroline moved nearer ; she was becoming 
interested. Then she recalled herself and said 
freezingly, " How are we going to descend ? " 



14 n HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

" By opening the valve." 

" Why don't you open it then ? " 

" Because the valve-string is broken ! 



CHAPTER IX. 

Lady Caroline fainted. When she revived it 
was dark. They were apparently cleaving their 
way through a solid block of black marble. She 
moaned and shuddered. 

" I wish we had a light." 

" I have no lucifers," said Little. " I observe, 
however, that you wear a necklace of amber. 
Amber under certain conditions becomes highly 
electrical. Permit me." 

He took the amber necklace and rubbed it 
l)riskly. Then he asked her to present her 
knuckle to the gem. A bright spark was the 
result. This was repeated for some hours. The 
lioht was not brilliant, but it was enouo'h for tlie 
purposes of propriety, and satisfied the delicately 
minded girl. 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. ^ 15 

Suddenly there was a tearing, hissing noise and 
a smell of gas. Little looked up and turned pale. 
The balloon, at what I shall call the pointed end 
of the Bologna sausage, was e\ddently bursting 
from increased pressure. The gas was escaping, 
and already they were beginning to descend. 
Little was resic^ned but firm. 

" If the silk gives way, then we are lost. Un- 
fortunately I have no rope nor material for bind- 
ing it." 

The woman's instinct had arrived at the same 
conclusion sooner than the man's reason. But she 
was hesitatino- over a detail. 

o 

" Will you go down the rope for a moment ? " she 
said, with a sweet smile. 

Little went down. Presently she called to him. 
She held something in her hand, — a wonderful 
invention of the seventeenth century, imj)roved 
and perfected in this : a pyramid of sixteen cir- 
cular hoops of light yet strong steel, attached to 
each other by cloth bands. 

With a cry of joy Little seized them, climbed 
to the balloon, and fitted the elastic hoops over its 
conical end. Then he returned to the car. 



16 • HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

"We are saved." 

Lady Caroline, blushing, gathered her slim but 
antique drapery against the other end of the car. 



CHAPTER X. 

They were slowly descending. Presently Lady 
Caroline distinguished the outlines of Eaby Hall. 
'' I think I will get out here/' she said. 

Little anchored the balloon and prepared to fol- 
low her. . 

" Not so, my friend," she said, with an arch 
smile. " We must not be seen together. People 
niio-ht talk. Farewell." 

Little sprang again into the balloon and sped 
away to America. He came down in California, 
oddly enough in front of Hardin's door, at Dutch 
Flat. Hardin was just examining a specimen of 
ore. 

/'You are a scientist; can you tell me if that 
is worth anything ? " he said, handing it to Lit- 
tle. 



HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 17 

Little held it to the light. " It contains ninety 
per cent of silver." 

Hardin embraced him. " Can I do anything for 
you, and why are you here ? " 

Little told his story. Hardin asked to see the 
rope. Then he examined it carefully. 

" Ah, tlTis was cut, not broken ! " 

" With a knife ? " asked Little. 

" No. Observe both sides are equally indented. 
It was done with a scissors .^" 

" Just Heaven ! " gasped Little. " Theresa ! " 



CHAPTER XI. 

Little returned to London. Passing through 
London one day he met a dog-fancier. " Buy a 
nice poodle, sir ? " 

Something in the animal attracted his atten- 
tion. " Fido ! " he gasped. 

The dog yelped. 

Little bought him. On taking off his collar a 
piece of paper rustled to the floor. He knew the 
handwritincr and kissed it. It ran : — 



iSJ^ 



18 HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES. 

"To THE Hon. Augustus Eaby : — I cannot 
many you. If I many any one " (sly puss) " it 
•will be the man who has twice saved my lile, — 
Professor Little. 

" Caeoline Coventry." 

And she di(i. 



LOTHAW; 

OR, 

THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNa aENTLEMAN 
m SEARCH OF A RELIGION. 

By MR. BENJAMINS. 



CHAPTER I. 

" I REMEMBER liim a little boy," said the Duch- 
ess. " Hi^ mother was a dear friend of mine ; you 
know she was one of my bridesmaids." 

" And you have never seen him since, mamma ? " 
asked the oldest married daughter, who did not 
look a day older than her mother. 

" Never ; he was an orphan shortly after. I 
have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult 
to see boys." 

This simple yet first-class conversation existed 
in the morning-room of Plusham, where the mis- 
tress of the palatial mansion sat involved in the 
sacred privacy of a circle of her married daugh- 
ters. One dexterously applied golden knitting- 



20 LOTH AW. 

needles to the fabrication of a purse of floss silk 
of the rarest texture, which none who knew the 
almost fabulous wealth of the Duke would be- 
lieve was ever destmed to hold in its silken 
meshes a less sum than £ 1,000,000 ; another 
adorned a slipper exclusively with seed pearls ; a 
third emblazoned a page Avith rare pigments and 
the finest quality of gold leaf. Beautiful forms 
leaned over frames glowing with embroidery, and 
beautiful frames leaned over forms inlaid with 
mother-of-pearl. Others, more remote, occasion- 
ally burst into melody as they tried the passages 
of a new and exclusive air given to them in MS. 
by some titled and devoted friend, for the private 
use of the aristocracy alone, and absolutely pro- 
hibited for publication. 

The Duchess, herself the superlative of beauty, 
wealth, and position, was married to the highest 
noble in the Three Kingdoms. Those who talked 
about such matters said that their progeny were 
exactly like their parents, — a peculiarity of the 
aristocratic and* wealthy. Tliey all looked like 
brothers and sisters, except their parents, who, 
such was their purity of blood, the perfection of 



LOTHAW. 21 

their manners, and the opulence of their condition, 
might have been taken for their own children's 
elder son and daughter. The daughters, with one 
exception, were all married to the highest nobles 
in the land. That exception was the Lady Cori- 
ander, who, there being no vacancy above a 
marquis and a rental of £ 1,000,000, waited. 
Oathered around the refined and sacred circle 
of their breakfast-table, with their glittering coro- 
nets, which, in filial respect to their father s Tory 
instincts and their mother's Eitualistic tastes, 
they always wore on their regal brows, the ef- 
fect was dazzling as it was refined. It was this 
peculiarity and their strong family reseml^lance 
which led their brother-in-law, the good-humored 
St. Addlegourd, to say that, " Ton my soul, you 
know, the whole precious mob looked like a 
ghastly pack of court cards, you know." St. 
Addlegourd was a radical. Having a rent-roll of 
£ 15,000,000, and belonging to one of the oldest 
families in Britain, he could afford to be. 

"Mamma, I've just dropped a pearl," said the 
Lady Coriander, bending over the Persian hearth- 



22 LOTIIAW. 

" From your lips, sweet friend/' said Lotliaw, 
who came of age and entered the room at the 
same moment. 

" No, from my Avork. It was a very vahiahle 
pearl, mamma ; papa gave Isaacs and Sons 
£50,000 for the two." 

" Ah, indeed," said the Ducliess, languidly 
rising; "let us go to luncheon." 

"But your Grace," interposed Lothaw, who 
was still quite young, and liad dropped on all- 
fours on the carpet in search of the missing 
gem, " consider the value — " 

" Dear friend," interposed the Duchess, witli- 
infinite tact, gently lifting him by the tails of 
his dress-coat, " I a-m waiting for your arm." 



CHAPTER II. 

Lothaw was immensely rich. The possessor 
of seventeen castles, fifteen villas, nine shooting- 
hoxes, and seven town houses, he had other estates 
of which he had not even heard. 

Everybody at Plusham played croquet, and 



LOTH AW. 23 

none badly. ]N'ext to their purity of blood and 
great wealth, the family were famous for tliis 
accomplishment. Yet Lothaw soon tired of the 
game, and after seriously damaging his aris- 
tocratically large foot in an attempt to " tight 
croquet " the Lady Aniseed's ball, he limped 
away to join the Duchess. 

" I 'm going to the hennery," she said. 

" Let me go with you, I dearly love fowls — 
broiled," he added, thoughtfully. 

" The Duke gave Lady Montairy some large 
Cochins the other day," continued the Duchess, 
changing the subject with delicate tact. 

" Lady Montairy, 
Quite contrairy, 
How do your Cochins grow ? " 

sang Lothaw gayly. 

The Duchess looked shocked. After a pro- 
longed silence, Lothaw abruptly and gravely 
said : — 

" If you please, ma'am, when I come into my 
property I should like to build some improved 
dwellings for the poor, and marry Lady Cori- 
ander." 



24 LOTH AW. 

"You amaze me, dear friend, and yet both 
your aspirations are noble and eminently prop- 
er/' said the Duchess ; " Coriander is but a 
child, — and yet," she added, looking gracious- 
ly upon her companion, " for the matter of that, 
so are you." 



CHAPTER III. 

Mr. Putney Giles's was Lothaw's first grand 
dinner-party. Yet, by carefully watching the 
others, he managed to acquit himself creditably, 
and avoided drinking out of the finger-bowl by 
first secretly testing its contents with a spoon. 
The conversation was peculiar and singularly 
interesting. 

"Then you think that monogamy is simply a 
cpiestion of the thermometer ? " said Mrs. Putney 
Giles to her companion. 

"I certainly think that polygamy should be 
limited by isothermal lines," replied Lothaw. 

"I should say it was a matter of latitude," 
observed a loud talkative man opposite. He was 
an Oxford Professor with a taste for satire, and 



LOTHAW. 25 

had made himself very obnoxious to the company, 
during dinner, by speaking disparagingly of a 
former well-known Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
— a great statesman and brilliant novelist, — 
whom he feared and hated. 

Suddenly there was a sensation in the room ; 
among the females it absolutely amounted to a 
nervous thrilL His Eminence, the Cardinal, was 
announced. He entered with great suavity of 
manner, and, after shaking hands with everybody, 
asking after their relatives, and chucking the more 
delicate females under the chin Avith a high-bred 
grace peculiar to his profession, he sat down, say- 
ing, "And how do we all find ourselves this 
evening, my dears ? " in several different languages, 
which he spoke fluently. 

Lothaw's heart was touched. His deeply relig- 
ious convictions were impressed. He instantly 
went up to this gifted being, confessed, and re- 
ceived absolution. " To-morrow," he said to him- 
self, " I will partake of the communion, and endow 
the Church with my vast estates. For the present 
I '11 let the improved cottages go." 

2 



26 LOTHAW. 



CHAPTER IV. 

As Lotliaw turned to leave the Cardinal, lie 
was struck by a beautiful face. It was that of a 
matron, slim but shapely as an Ionic column. 
Her face was Grecian, with Corinthian temples ; 
Hellenic eyes that looked from jutting eyebrows, 
like dormer-windows in an Attic forehead, com- 
pleted her perfect Athenian outline. Slie wore a 
black frock-coat tightly buttoned over her bloomer 
trousers, and a standing collar. 

"Your Lordship is struck by that face," said a 
social parasite. 

" I am ; who is she ? " 

" Her name is Mary Ann. She is married to an 
American, and has lately invented a new religion." 

" Ah ! " said Lothaw eagerly, with difficulty re- 
straining himself from rushing toward her. 

" Yes ; shall I introduce you ? " 

Lothaw thought of Lady Coriander's High 
Church proclivities, of the Cardinal, and hesitated : 
" No, I thank you, not now." 



LOTH AW. 27 



CHAPTER V. . 

LoTHAW was maturing. He had attended two 
woman's rights conventions, three Fenian meet- 
ings, had dined at White's, and had danced vis-a- 
vis to a prince of the blood, and eaten off of gold 
plates at Crecy House. 

His stables were near Oxford, and occupied 
more ground than the University. He was driv- 
ing over there one day, when he perceived some 
rustics and menials endeavoring to stop a pair 
of runa^vay horses attached to a carriage in which 
a lady and gentleman were seated. Calmly await- 
ing the termination of the accident, witli higli- 
bred courtesy Lothaw forbore to interfere until 
the carriage was overturned, the occupants thrown 
out, and the runaways secured by the servants, 
when he advanced and offered the lady the ex- 
clusive use of his Oxford stables. 

Turning upon him a face wdiose perfect Hellenic 
details he remembered, she slowly dragged a gen- 
tleman from under the wheels into the lidit and 



28 LOTH AW. 

presented him with ladylike dignity as her hus- 
band, Major-General Camperdown, an American. 

" Ah," said Lothaw^ carelessly, " I believe I have 
some land there. If I mistake not, my agent, Mr. 
Putney Giles, lately purchased the State of — Illi- 
nois — I think you call it." 

" Exactly. As a former resident of the city of 
Chicago, let me introduce myself as your tenant." 

Loth aw bowed graciously to the gentleman, 
who, except that he seemed better dressed than 
most Englishmen, showed no other signs of in- 
feriority and plebeian extraction. 

" AVe have met before," said Lothaw to the lady 
as she leaned on his arm, while they visited his 
stables, the University, and other places of in- 
terest in Oxford. " Pray tell me, what is this 
new religion of yours ? " 

" It is Woman Suffrage, Free Love, Mutual Af- 
finity, and Communism. Embrace it and me." 

Lothaw did not know exactly what to do. She 
however soothed and sustained his agitated frame 
and sealed with an embrace his speechless form. 
The General approached and coughed slightly 
with gentlemanly tact. 



LOTH AW. 29 

" My husband will be too liappy to talk with 
you farther on this subject," she said with quiet 
dignity, as she regained the General's side. 
"Come with us to Oneida. Brook Farm is a 
thing of the past." 



CHAPTER VI. 

As Lo thaw drove toward his country-seat, " The 
Mural Enclosure," he observed a crowd, apparently 
of the working class, gathered around a singular- 
looking man in the picturesque garb of an Ethio- 
pian serenader. " What does he say ? " inquired 
Lothaw of his driver. 

The man touched his hat respectfully and said, 
" My Mary Ann." 

" ' My Mary Ann ! ' " Lothaw's heart beat rap- 
idly. Who was this mysterious foreigner ? He 
had heard from Lady Coriander of a certain 
Popish j)lot ; but could he connect Mr. Camper- 
down with it ? 

The spectacle of two hundred men at arms who 
advanced to meet him at the gates of The Mural 



30 LOTH AW. 

Enclosure drove all else from the still youthful 
and impressible mind of Lothaw. Immediately 
behind them, on the steps of the baronial halls, 
were ranged his retainers, led by the chief cook 
and bottle-washer, and head crumb-remover. 
On either side were two companies of laundry- 
maids, preceded by the chief crimper and fluter, 
supporting a long Ancestral Line, on which de- 
pended the family linen, and under which the 
youthful lord of the manor passed into the halls 
of his fathers. Twenty-four scullions carried the 
massive gold and silver plate of the family on 
their shoulders, and deposited it at the feet of their 
master. Tlie spoons were then solemnly counted 
by the steward, and the perfect ceremony ended. 

Lothaw sighed. He sought out the gorgeously 
gilded " Taj," or sacred mausoleum erected to his 
grandfather in the second story front room, and 
wept over the man he did not know. He wan- 
dered alone in his magnificent park, and then, 
throwing himself on a grassy bank, pondered on 
the Great First Cause, and the necessity of re- 
ligion. " I will send Mary Ann a handsome pres- 
ent," said Lothaw, thoughtfully. 



LOTH AW. 31 



CHAPTER VII. 

" Each of these pearls, my Lord, is worth fifty 
thousand guineas," said Mr. Amethyst, the fashion- 
able jeweler, as he lightly lifted a large shovelful 
from a convenient bin behind his counter. 

" Indeed," said Lothaw, carelessly, " I should 
prefer to see some expensive ones." 

" Some number sixes, I suppose," said Mr. Ame- 
thyst, taking a couple from the apex of a small 
pyramid that lay piled on the shelf. " These are 
about the size of the Duchess of Billingsgate's, 
but they are in finer condition. The fact is, her 
Grace permits her two children, the Marquis of 
Smithfield and the Duke of St. Giles, — two sweet 
pretty boys, my Lord, — to use them as marbles 
in their games. Pearls require some attention, 
and I go down there regularly twice a week to 
clean them. Perhaps your Lordship would like 
some ropes of pearls ? " 

" About half a cable's length," said Lothaw, 
shortly, " and send them to my lodgings." 



32 LOTHAW. 

Mr. Amethyst became thouglitful. " I am 
afraid I have not the exact number — that is — 
excuse me one moment. I will run over to the 
Tower and borrow a few from the crown jewels." 
And before Lothaw could prevent him, he seized 
his hat and left Lothaw alone. 

His position certainly was embarrassing. He 
could not move without stepping on costly gems 
which had rolled from the counter ; the rarest 
diamonds lay scattered on the shelves ; untold 
fortunes in priceless emeralds lay within his 
grasp. Although such was the aristocratic purity 
of his blood and the strength of his religious 
convictions that he probably would not have 
pocketed a single diamond, still he could not 
help thinking that he might be accused of taking 
some. " You can search me, if you like," he said 
when Mr. Amethyst returned ; " but I assure you, 
upon the honor of a gentleman, that I have taken 
nothing." 

" Enough, my Lord," said Mr. Amethyst, with a 
low bow ; " we never search the aristocracy." 



LOTHAW. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

As Lothaw left Mr. Amethyst's, he ran against 
General Camperdown. " How is Mary Ann ? " he 
asked hurriedly. 

" I regret to state that she is dying," said the 
General, with a grave voice, as he removed his 
cigar from his lips, and lifted his hat to Lothaw. 

" Dying ! " said Lothaw, incredulously. 

" Alas, too true ! " replied the General. " The 
engagements of a long lecturing season, exposure 
in travelling by railway during the winter, and the 
imperfect nourishment afforded by the refresh- 
ments along the road, have told on her delicate 
frame. But she wants to see you before she dies. 
Here is the key of my lodging. I will finish my 
cio'ar out here." 

. Lothaw hardly recognized those wasted Hellenic 
outlines as he entered the dimly lighted room of 
the dying woman. She was already a classic 
ruin, — as wrecked and yet as perfect as the 
Parthenon. He grasped her hand silently. 



34 LOTHAW. 

" Open-air speaking twice a week, and saleratus 
bread in the rural districts, have brought me to 
this/' she said feebly ; " but it is well. The cause 
progresses. The tyrant man succumbs." 

Lothaw could only press her hand. 

" Promise me one thing. Don't — whatever 
you do — become a Catholic." 

"Why?" 

" The Church does not recognize divorce. And 
now embrace me. I would prefer at this supreme 
moment to introduce myself to the next world 
through the medium of the best society in this. 
Good by. Wlien I am dead, be good enough to 
inform my Inisband of the fact." 



CHAPTER IX. 

Lothaw spent the next six months on an Aryan 
island, in an Aryan climate, and with an Aryan race. 

"This is an Aryan landscape," said his host, 
" and that is a ^fary Ann statue." It ^\c[s, in fact, 
a full-length figure in marble of j\Irs. General 
Camperdown ! 



LOTH AW. 35 

" If you please, I should like to become a 
Pagan/' said Lothaw, one day, after listening to 
an impassioned discourse on Greek art from the 
lips of his host. 

But that night, on consulting a well-known 
spiritual medium, Lothaw received a message 
from the late Mrs. General Camperdown, advising 
him to return to England. Two days later he 
presented himself at Plusham. 

" The young ladies are in the garden," said the 
Duchess. "Don't you want to go and pick a 
rose ? " she added with a gracious smile, and the 
nearest approach to a wink that was consistent 
wdth her patrician bearing and aquiline nose. 

Lothaw went and presently returned with the 
blushing Coriander upon his arm. 

" Bless you, my children," said the Duchess. 
Then, turning to Lothaw, she said : " You have 
simply fulfilled and accepted your inevitable des- 
tiny. It was morally impossible for you to marry 
out of this family. For the present, the Church 
of England is safe." 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 

A MODERN INDIAN NOVEL. 

After COOPER. 



CHAPTER I. 

It was toward the close of a bright October 
day. The last rays of the setting sun were re- 
flected from one of those sylvan lakes peculiar 
to the Sierras of California. On the right the - 
curling smoke of an Indian village rose between 
the columns of the lofty pines, while to the left 
the log cottage of Judge Tompkins, embowered 
in buckeyes, completed the enchanting picture. 

Although the exterior of the cottage was hum- 
ble and unpretentious, and in keeping with the 
wildness of the landscape, its interior gave evi- 
dence of the cultivation and refinement of its 
inmates. An aquarium, containing goldfishes, 
stood on a marble centre-table at one end of 
the apartment, while a magnificent grand piano 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 37 ' 

occupied the other. The floor was covered with 
a yiehling tapestry carpet, and the walls were 
adorned with paintings from the pencils of Van 
•Dyke, Eubens, Tintoretto, Michael Angelo, and 
the productions of the more modern Turner, 
Kensett, Church, and Bierstadt. Although Judge 
Tompkins had chosen the frontiers of civilization 
as his home, it was impossible for him to en- 
tirely forego the habits and tastes of his former 
life. He was seated in a luxurious arm-chair, writ- 
ing at a mahogany ecritoire, while his daughter, a 
lovely young girl of seventeen summers, plied her 
crochet-needle on an ottoman beside him. A 
bright fire of pine logs flickered and flamed on 
the ample hearth. 

Genevra Octavia Tompkins was Judge Tomp- 
kins's only child. Her mother had long since 
died on the Plains. Beared in affluence, no pains 
had been spared with Ihe daughter's education. 
She was a graduate of one of the principal semi- 
naries, and spoke French with a perfect Benicia 
accent. Peerlessly beautiful, she was dressed in 
a white moire antique robe trimmed with tulle. 
That simple rosebud, with which most heroines 



38 MUCK-A-MUCK. 

exclusively decorate their hair, was all she wore 
ill her raven locks. 

The Judge was the first to break the silence. 

"Genevra, the logs which compose yonder firo* 
seem to have been incautiously chosen. The sibila- 
tion produced by the sap, which exudes copiously 
therefrom, is not conducive to composition." 

" True, father, but I thought it would l)e prefer- 
able to the constant crepitation which is apt to 
attend the combustion of more seasoned ligneous 
fragments." 

The Judae looked admirin!:>lv at the intellectual 
features of the graceful girl, and half forgot the 
slight annoyances of the green wood in the musi- 
cal accents of his daughter. He was smoothing her 
hair tenderly, when the shadow of a tall figure, 
which suddenly darkened the doorway, caused him 
to look up. 



CHAPTER II. 

It needed but a glance at the new-comer to de- 
tect at once the form and features of the haughty 
aborigine, — the untaught and untrammelled son 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 39 

of the forest. Over one shoulder a blanket, neg- 
ligently but gracefully thrown, disclosed a bare and 
powerful breast, decorated with a quantity of three- 
ceflJk XDOstage-stamps which he had despoiled from 
an Overland Mail stage a few weeks previous. A 
cast-ofP beaver of Judge Tompkins's, adorned by a 
simple feather, covered his erect head, from be- 
neath which his straight locks descended. His 
right hand hung liglitly by his side, while his 
left was engaged in holding on a pair of panta- 
loons, which the lawless grace and freedom of 
his lower limbs evidently could not brook. 

" Why," said the Indian, in a low sweet tone, — 
" why does the Pale Face still follow the track of 
the Eed Man ? Why does he pursue him, even 
as O-hec-cliovj, the wild-cat, chases Ka-ka, the 
skunk ? Why are the feet of Sorrel-top, the 
wliite chief, among the acorns of MucJc-a-Much, 
the mountain forest ? AVliy," he repeated, quietly 
but firmly abstracting a silver spoon from the 
table, — " why do you seek to drive him from the 
wigwams of his fathers ? His brothers are already 
gone to the happy hunting-grounds. Will the 
Pale Face seek him there ? " And, averting his 



40 MUCK-A-MUCK. 

face from the Judge, he hastily slipped a silver 
cake-basket beneath his blanket, to conceal his 
emotion. 

" 3fuck-a-Much has spoken," said Genevra, sc^y. 
" Let him now listen. Are the acorns of the moun- 
tain sweeter than the esculent and nutritious bean 
of the Pale Face miner ? Does my brother prize 
the edible qualities of the snail above that of the 
crisp and oleaginous bacon ? Delicious are the 
grasshoppers that sport on the hillside, — are they 
better than the dried apples of the Pale Faces ? 
Pleasant is the gurgle of the torrent, Kish-Kish, 
but is it better than the cluck-cluck of old Bour^ 
bon from the old stone bottle ? " 

" Ugh ! " said the Indian, — " ugh 1 good. The 
White Rabbit is wise. Her words fall as the 
snow on Tootoonolo, and the rocky heart of Muck- 
a-Muck is hidden. What says my brother the 
Gray Gopher of Dutch Flat ? " 

" She has spoken, Muck-a-Muck," said the Judge, 
gazing fondly on his daughter. " It is well. Our 
treaty is concluded. ^nTo, thank you, — you need 
not dance the Dance of SnoAV Shoes, or the Moc- 
casin Dance, the Dance of Green Corn, or the 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 41 

Treaty Dance. I would be alone. A strange sad- 
ness overpowers me." 

"I go," said the Indian. " Tell your great chief 
Hfc Washington, the Sachem Andy, that the Eed 
Man is retiring before the footsteps of the adven- 
turous Pioneer. Inform him, if you please, that 
westward the star of empire takes its way, that 
the chiefs of the Pi-Ute nation are for Ptecon- 
struction to a man, and that Klamath will poll a 
heavy Eepublican vote in the fall." 

And folding his blanket more tightly around 
him, Muck-a-Muck withdrew. 



CHAPTER III. 

Genevea Tompkins stood at the door of the lo 



cabin, looking after the retreating Overland Mail 
stage which conveyed her father to Virginia City. 
" He may never return again," sighed the young 
girl as she glanced at the frightfully rolling vehicle 
and wildy careering horses, — " at least, with un- 
broken bones. Should he meet with an accident ! 
I mind me now a fearful legend, familiar to my 



42 MUCK-A-MUCK. 

cliildliood. Can it be tliat the drivers on this line 
are privately instructed to despatch all passengers 
maimed by accident, to prevent tedious litigation ? 
No, no. But why this weight upon my heart ?^ 
She seated herself at the piano and lightly 
passed her hand over the keys. Then, in a clear 
mezzo-soprano voice, she sang the first verse of one 
of the most popular Irish ballads : — 

* ' Arrahy ma dhcelish, the distant dudheen 
Lies soft in the moonlight, ma houclial vournecn : 
The springing gossoons on the heather are still, 
And the caubeens and colleens are heard on the liills." 

But as the ravishing notes of her sweet voice - 
died upon the air, her hands sank listlessly to her 
side. Music could not chase away the mysterious 
shadow from lier' heart. Again she rose. Putting 
on a white crape bonnet, and carefully drawing a 
pair of lemon-colored gloves over her taper fingers, 
she seized her parasol and plunged into the depths 
of the pine forest. 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 43 



CHAPTER IV. 

Genevra had not proceeded many miles before 
a weariness seized upon her fragile limbs, and she 
would fain seat herself upon the trunk of a pros- 
trate pine, which she previously dusted with her 
handkerchief. The sun was just sinking below 
the horizon, and the scene was one of gorgeous 
and sylvan beauty. " How beautiful is ]N'ature ! " 
murmured the innocent girl, as, reclining grace- 
fully against the root of the tree, she gathered up 
her skirts and tied a handkerchief around her 
throat. But a low growl interrupted her medita- 
tion. Starting to her feet, her eyes met a sight 
which froze her blood with terror. 

The only outlet to the forest was the narrow 
path, barely wide enough for a single person, 
hemmed in by trees and rocks, which she had 
just traversed. Down this path, in Indian file, 
came a monstrous grizzly, closely followed by a 
California lion, a wild-cat, and a buffalo, the rear 
being brought up by a wild Spanish bull. Tlie 



44 MUCK-A-MUCK. 

mouths of the three first animals were distended 
with frightful significance; the horns of the last 
were lowered as ominously. As Genevra was pre- 
paring to faint, she heard a low voice behind her. 

"Eternally dog-gone my skin ef this ain't the 
puttiest chance yet." 

At the same moment, a long, shining barrel 
dropped lightly from behind her, and rested over 
her shoulder. 

Genevra shuddered. 

" Dern ye — don't move ! " 

Genevra became motionless. 

The crack of a rifle rang through the woods. 
Three frightful yells were heard, and two sullen 
roars. Five animals bounded into the air and 
five lifeless bodies lay upon the plain. The well- 
aimed bullet had done its work. Entering the 
open throat of the grizzly, it had traversed his 
body only to enter the throat of the California 
lion, and in like manner the catamount, until it. 
passed through into the respective foreheads of 
the bull and the buffalo, and finally fell flattened 
from the rocky hillside. 

Genevra turned quickly. " My preserver ! " she 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 45 



shrieked, and fell into the arms of Natty Bumpo, 
the celebrated Pike Eanger of Donner Lake. 



CHAPTER V 



The moon rose cheerfully above Donner Lake. 
On its placid bosom a dug-out canoe glided 
rapidly, containing Natty Bumpo and Genevra 
Tompkins. 

Both were silent. The same thought possessed 
each, and perhaps there was sweet companionship 
even in the unbroken quiet. Genevra bit the 
handle of her parasol and blushed. Natty Bumpo 
took a fresh chew of tobacco. At length Genevra 
said, as if in half-spoken revery : — 

" The soft shining of the moon and the peaceful 
ripple of the waves seem to say to us various 
things of an instructive and moral tendency." 

" You may bet yer pile on that. Miss," said her 
companion, gravely. " It 's all the preachin' and 
psalm-singin' I 've heern since I was a boy." 

" Noble being ! " said Miss Tompkins to herself, 
glancing at the stately Pike as he bent over his 



46 MUCK-A-MUCK. 

paddle to conceal his emotion. "Eeared in this 
wild seclusion, yet he has become penetrated with 
visible consciousness of a Great First Cause." 
Then, collecting herself, she said aloud : " Me- 
tliinks 't were pleasant to glide ever thus down 
the stream of life, hand in hand with the one 
being whom the soul claims as its affinity. But 
what am I saying ? " — and the delicate-minded 
girl hid her face in her hands. 

A long silence ensued, which was at length bro- 
ken by her companion. 

" Ef you mean you 're on the marry," he said, 
tlioughtf uUy, " I ain't in no wise partikler ! " 

" My husband," faltered the blushing girl ; and 
she fell into his arms. 

In ten minutes more tlie lo\'ing couple had 
landed at Judge Tompkins's. 



CHAPTER VI. 

A YEAR has passed away. Natty Bumpo was 
returning from Gold Hill, vrhere he had been to 
purchase provisions. On his way to Donner Lake, 



MUCK-A-MUCK. 47 

rumors of an Indian uprising met his ears. " Dern 
their pesky skins, ef they dare to touch my Jenny/' 
he muttered between his clenched teeth. 

It was dark when he reached the borders of the 
lake. Around a glittering fire he dimly discerned 
dusky figures dancing. They were in Y/ar j^^int. 
Conspicuous among them was the renowned Muck- 
a-Muck. But wliy did the fingers of Natty Bumpo 
tighten convulsively around his rifle ? 

The chief held in his hand long tufts of raven 
hair. The heart of the pioneer sickened as he 
recognized the clustering curls of Genevra. In a 
moment his rifle was at his shoulder, and with 
a sharp '' ping," Muck-a-Muck leaped into the air 
a corpse. To knock out the brains of the remain- 
ing savages, tear the tresses from the stiffening 
hand of Muck-a-Muck, and dash rapidly forward 
to the cottage of Judge Tompkins, was the work 
of a moment. 

He burst open the door. Why did he stand 
transfixed wdth open mouth and distended eye- 
balls ? Was the sight too horrible to be borne ? 
On the contrary, before him, in her peerless 
beauty, stood Genevra Tompkins, leaning on her 
father's arm. 



48 ■ MUCK-A-MUCK. 

" Ye 'r not scalped, then ! " gasped her lover. 

"No. I have no hesitation in saying that I 
am not ; but why this abruptness ? " responded 
Genevra. 

Bumpo could not speak, but frantically pro- 
duced the silken tresses. Genevra turned her 
face aside. 

" Why, that 's her waterfall ! " said the Judge. 

Bumpo sank fainting to the floor. 

The famous Pike chieftain never recovered from 
the deceit, and refused to marry Genevra, who 
died, twenty years afterwards, of a broken heart. 
Judge Tompkins lost his fortune in Wild Cat, 
The stage passes twice a week the deserted cottage 
at Donner Lake. Thus was the death of Muck-a- 
Muck avenged. 



TERENCE DENVILLE. 

By CH— L— S L— V— R. 



CHAPTEK I 



MY HOME. 



The little village of Pilwiclclle is one of the 
smallest and obscurest hamlets on the western 
coast of Ireland. On a lofty; crag, overlooking the 
hoarse Atlantic, stands- "Denville's Shot Tower" 
— a corruption by the peasantry of D'Enville's 
Chateau, so called from my great-grandfather, 
Phelini St. Eemy d'Enville, who assumed the 
name and title of a French heiress with whom 
he ran away. To this fact my familiar knowledge 
and excellent pronunciation of the French lan- 
guage may be attributed, as well as many of the 
events which covered my after life. 

The Denvilles were always passionately fond of 
field sports. At the age of four, I was already the 
boldest rider and the best shot in the country. 



50 TERENCE DENVILLE. ' 

AVlien only eight, I won the St. Eemy Cup at the 
Pilwiddle races, — riding my favorite bloodmare 
Hellfire. As I aj^proached the stand amidst the 
plaudits of the assembled multitude, and cries of, 
" Thrue for ye, Masther Terence," and " 0, but it 's 
a Dinville ! " there was a slight stir among tlie 
gentry, who surrounded the Lord Lieutenant, and 
other titled personages whom the race had at- 
tracted thither. " How young he is, — a mere 
child ; and yet how noble-looking," said a sweet 
low voice, which thrilled my soul. 

I looked up and met the full liquid orbs of the 
Hon. Blanche Fitzroy Sackville, youngest daughter 
of the Lord Lieutenant. She blushed deeply. I 
turned pale and almost fainted. But the cold, 
sneering tones of a masculine voice sent the blood 
back again into my youthful cheek. 

"Very likely the ragged scion of one of these 
banditti Irish gentry, who has taken naturally to 
'the road.' He should be at school — though I 
w^arrant me his knowledge of Terence will not 
extend beyond his own name," said Lord Henry 
Somerset, aid-de-camp to the Lord Lieutenant. 

A moment and I was perfectly calm, though 



TERENCE DENVILLE. 51 

cold as ice. Dismounting, and stepping to the 
side of the speaker, I said in a low, firm voice : — 

" Had your Lordship read Terence more care- 
fully, you would have learned that banditti are 
sometimes proficient in other arts beside horse- 
manship," and I touched his holster significantly 
with my hand. I had not read Terence myself, 
but with the skilful audacity of my race I calcu- 
lated that a vague allusion, coupled with a threat, 
would embarrass him. It did, 

" Ah — what mean you ? " he said, white with 
rage. 

"Enough, we are observed," I replied; "Father 
Tom will wait on you this evening ; and to-morrow 
morning, my lord, in the glen below Pilwiddle we 
will meet again." 

'' Father Tom — glen ! " ejaculated the English- 
man, with genuine surprise. " What ? do priests 
carry challenges and act as seconds in your in- 
fernal country ? " 

" Yes ! " I answered, scornfully, " why should 
they not? Their services are more often neces- 
sary than those of a surgeon," I added signifi- 
cantly, turning away. 



52 TERENCE DENVILLE. 

The party slowly rode off, with the exception 
of the Hon. Blanche Sackville, who lingered for 
a moment behind. In an instant I w^as at her 
side. Bending her blushing face over the neck 
of her white filly, she said liurriedly : — 

""Words have passed between Lord Somerset 
and yourself You are about to fight. Don't 
deny it — but hear me. You will meet him — 
I know your skill of weapons. He will be at 
your mercy. I entreat you to S23are his life ! " 

I hesitated. "Never!" I cried passionately; 
" he has insulted a Denville ! " 

"Terence," she whisxDered, "Terence — for my_ 
sakcV 

The blood rushed to my cheeks, and her eyes 
sought the ground in bashful confusion. 

" You love him then ? " I cried, bitterly. 

" No, no," she said, agitatedly, " no, you do me 
wrong. I — I — cannot explain myself My fa- 
ther ! — the Lady Dowager Sackville — the estate 
of Sackville — tlie borough — my uncle, Fitzroy 
Somerset. Ah ! what am I saying ? Forgive me. 
Terence," she said, as her beautiful head sank 
on my shoulder, " you know not wdiat I suffer ! " 



TERENCE DENVILLE. 53 

I seized her hand and covered it with passionate 
kisses. But the high-bred English girl, recovering 
something of her former hauteur, said hastily, 
" Leave me, leave me, but promise ! " 

" I promise," I replied, enthusiastically ; " I will 
spare his life ! " 

" Thanks, Terence, — thanks ! " and diseno^aoing 
her hand from my lips she rode rapidly away. 

The next morning, the Hon. Captain Henry 
Somerset and myself exchanged nineteen shots 
in the glen, and at each fire I shot away a button 
from his uniform. As my last bullet shot off the 
last button from liis sleeve, I remarked quietly, 
" You seem now, my lord, to be almost as ragged 
as the gentry you sneered at," and rode haughtily 
away. 



CHAPTER II. 



THE FIGHTING FIFTY-SIXTH. 



AVhen I was nineteen years old my father sold 
the Chateau cVEnvillc and purchased my com- 
mission in the " Fifty-sixth " with the proceeds. 
" I say, Denville," said young McSpadden, a boy- 



54 TERENCE DENVILLE. 

faced ensign, who had just joined, "you'll repre- 
sent the estate in the Army, if you won't in the 
House." Poor fellow, he paid for his meaningless 
joke with his life, for I shot him through the 
heart the next morning. " You 're a good fellow, 
Denville," said the poor boy faintly, as I knelt be- 
side him : " good by ! " For the first time since 
my grandfather's death I wept. I could not help 
thinking that I w^ould have been a better man if 
Blanche — but why proceed ? Was she not now 
in Florence — the belle of the English Embassy. 

But Napoleon had returned from Elba. Europe 
was in a blaze of excitement. The Allies were 
preparing to resist the Man of Destiny. We were 
ordered from Gibraltar home, and w^ere soon again 
en route for Brussels. I did not regret that I was 
to be placed in active service. I was ambitious, 
and longed for an opportunity to distinguish my- 
self My garrison life in Gibraltar had been 
monotonous and dull. I had killed five men in 
duel, and had an affair with the colonel of my 
regiment, wdio handsomely apologized before the 
matter assumed a serious aspect. I had been 
twice in love. Yet these w^ere but boyish freaks 
and follies. I wished to be a man. 



TERENCE DENVILLE. 55 

The time soon came, — the morning of Waterloo. 
But why describe that momentous battle, on which 
the fate of the entire world was hanging ? Twice 
were the Fifty-sixth surrounded by French cuiras- 
siers, and twice did we mow them down by our 
fire. I had seven horses shol under me, and was 
mounting the eighth, when an orderly rode up 
hastily, touched his cap, and, handing me a de- 
spatch, galloped rapidly away. 

I opened it hurriedly and read : — 

"Let Picton advance immediately on the 

RIGHT." 

I saw it all at a glance. I had been mistaken 
for a general officer. But what was to be done ? 
Picton's division was two miles away, only acces- 
sible through a heavy cross fire of artillery and 
musketry. But my mind was made up. 

In an instant I was engaged with an entire 
squadron of cavalry, who endeavored to surround 
me. Cutting my way through them, I advanced 
boldly upon a battery and sabred the gunners be- 
fore they could bring their pieces to bear. Look- 
ing around, I saw that I had in fact penetrated 
the French centre. Before I was well aware of 



5b TERENCE DENVILLE. 

the locality, I was hailed by a sharp voice in 
French, — 

" Come here, sir ! " 

I obeyed, and advanced to the side of a little 
man in a cocked hat. 

" Has Grouchy come ? " 

" Not yet, sire," I replied, — for it was the 
Emperor. 

" Ha ! " he said suddenly, bending his piercing 
eyes on my uniform ; " a prisoner ? " 

" No, sire," I said, proudly. 

" A spy ? " 

I placed my hand upon my sword, but a gesture 
from the Emperor bade me forbear. 

" You are a brave man," he said. 

I took my snuff-box from my pocket, and, tak- 
ing a pinch, replied by handing it, with a bow, to 
tlie Emperor. 

His quick eye caught the cij)her on the lid. 

" What ! a D'Enville ? Ha ! this accounts for 
the purity of your accent. Any relation to 
Koderick d'Enville ? " 

" ]\Iy father, sire." 

"He was my schoolfellow at the Ecolc Poly- 



TERENCE DENVILLE. 57 

technique. Embrace me ! " And the Emperor fell 
upon my neck in the presence of his entire staff. 
Then, recovering himself, he gently placed in my 
hand his own magnificent snuff-box, in exchange 
for mine, and hanging upon my breast the cross 
of the Legion of Honor which he took from his 
ow^n, he bade one of his Marshals conduct me 
back to my regiment. 

I was so intoxicated with the honor of which I 
had been the recipient, that on reaching our lines 
I uttered a shout of joy and put spurs to my 
horse. The intelligent animal seemed to sympa- 
thize with my feelings, and fairly flew over the 
ground. On a rising eminence a few yards before 
me stood a gray-haired officer, surrounded by his 
staff. I don't know what possessed me, but put- 
ting spurs to my horse, I rode at him boldly, and 
with one bound cleared him, horse and all. A 
shout of indignation arose from the assembled 
staff. I wheeled suddenly, with the intention of 
apologizing, but my mare misunderstood me, and, 
aiiain dashincj forward, once more vaulted over 
the head of the officer, this time unfortunately 
uncovering him by a vicious kick of her' hoof. 

3* 



58 TKRENCE DENVILLE 

" Seize him ! " roared the entire army. I was 
seized. As the soldiers led me away, I asked 
the name of the gray -haired officer. " That - — 
why, that 's the Duke of "Wellington 1 " 

I fainted. 

****** 

For six montlis I had brain-fever. During my 
illness ten grapeshot were extracted from my body 
which I had unconsciously received during the 
battle. When I opened my eyes I met the sweet 
glance of a Sister of Charity. 

" Blanche ! " I stammered feebly. 

" The same," she replied. 

" You here ? " 

" Yes, dear ; but hush ! It 's a long story. You 
see, dear Terence, your grandfather married my 
great-aunt's sister, and your father again married 
my grandmother's niece, who, dying w^ithout a 
wdll, was, according to the French law — " 

" But I do not comprehend," I said. 

" Of course not," said Blanclie, with her old sweet 
smile ; " you 've had brain-fever ; so go to sleep." 

I understood, however, that Blanche loved me ; 
and I am now, dear reader. Sir Terence Sackville, 
K. C. B., and Lady Blanche is Lady Sackville. 



SELINA SEDILIA. 

By miss M. E. B— DD— N and MRS. H— N— Y W— D. 



CHAPTER I. 

The sun was setting over Sloperton Grange, and 
reddened the window of the lonely chamber in the 
western tower, supposed to be haunted by Sir 
Edward Sedilia, the founder of the Grange. In 
the dreamy distance arose the gilded mausoleum 
of Lady Felicia Sedilia, who haunted that portion 
of Sedilia Manor, known as " Stiff-uns Acre." A 
little to the left of the Grange might have been 
seen a mouldering ruin, known as " Guy's Keep," 
haunted by the spirit of Sir Guy Sedilia, who was 
found, one morning, crushed by one of the fallen 
battlements. Yet, as the setting sun gilded these 
objects, a beautiful and almost holy calm seemed 
diffused about the Grange. 

The Lady Selina sat by an oriel window, over- 
looking the park. The sun sank gently in the 



60 SELINA SEDILIA. 

bosom of the German Ocean, and yet the lady did 
not lift her beautiful head from the finely curved 
arm and diminutive hand which supported it. 
When darkness finally shrouded the landscape 
she started, for the sound of horse-hoofs clattered 
over the stones of the avenue. She had scarcely 
risen before an aristocratic young man fell on his 
knees before her. 

"My Selina!" 

"Edgardo! You here?" 

" Yes, dearest." 

" And — you — you — have — seen nothing ? " 
said the lady in an agitated voice and nervous 
manner, turning her face aside to conceal her 
emotion. 

" Nothing — that is nothing of any account," 
said Edgardo. " I passed the ghost of your aunt 
in tlie park, noticed the spectre of your uncle in 
the ruined keep, and observed the familiar features 
of the spirit of your great-grandfather at his usual 
post. But nothing beyond these trifles, my Selina. 
]^othing more, love, absolutely nothing." 

The young man turned his dark liquid orbs 
fondly upon the ingenuous face of his betrothed. 



SELINA 8ED1LIA. Gl 

"My own Edgardo ! — and you still love me? 
You still would marry me in spite of this dark 
mystery which surrounds me ? In spite of the 
fatal history of my race ? In spite of the ominous 
predictions of my aged nurse ? " 

" I would, Selina " ; and the young man passed 
his arm around her yielding waist. The two 
lovers gazed at each other's faces in unspeakable 
bliss. Suddenly Selina started. 

" Leave me, Edgardo ! leave me ! A mysterious 
something — a fatal misgiving — a dark ambiguity 
— an equivocal" mistrust oppresses me. I would 
be alone ! " 

The young man arose, and cast a loving glance 
on the lady. " Then we will be married on the 
seventeenth." 

" The seventeenth/' repeated Selina, with a mys- 
terious shudder. 

They embraced and parted. As the clatter of 
hoofs in the court-yard died away, the Lady Selina 
sank into the chair she had just quitted. 

" The seventeenth," she repeated slowly, with 
the same fateful shudder. " Ah 1 — what if he 
should know that I have another husband living ? 



62 SELINA SEDILIA. 

Dare I reveal to him that I have two lesjitimate 
and three natural children ? Dare I repeat to him 
the history of my youth ? Dare I confess that at 
the age of seven I poisoned my sister, by putting 
verdigris in her cream-tarts, — that I threw my 
cousin from a swing at the age of twelve ? That 
the lady's-maid who incurred the displeasure of 
my girlhood now lies at the bottom of the horse- 
pond ? No ! no ! he is too pure, — too good, — 
too innocent, to hear such improper conversation ! " 
and her whole body writhed as she rocked to and 
fro in a paroxysm of grief. 

But she was soon calm. Eising to her feet, she 
opened a secret panel in the wall, and revealed a 
slow-match ready for lighting. 

" This match," said the Lady Selina, " is con- 
nected with a mine beneath the western tower, 
where my three children . are confined ; another 
branch of it lies under the parish church, where 
the record of my first marriage is kept. I have 
only to light this match and the whole of my past 
life is swept away ! " She approached the match 
with a lio'hted candle. 

But a hand was laid upon her arm, and with a 



SELINA SEDILTA. G3 



shriek the Lady Selina fell on her knees before the 



spectre of Sir Guy. 



CHAPTER II. 

" Forbear, Selina/' said the phantom in a hol- 
low voice. 

" Why should I forbear ? " responded Selina 
haughtily, as she recovered her courage. "You 
know the secret of our race ? " 

"I do. Understand me, — I do not object to 
the eccentricities of your youth. I know the fear- 
ful destiny Avhich, pursuing you, led you to poison 
your sister and drown your lady's-maid. I knov/ 
the awful doom which I have brought upon this 
house 1 But if you make way with these chil- 
dren — " 

" Well," said the Lady Selina, hastily 

" They will haunt you ! " 

"Well, I fear them not," said Selina, drawing 
her superb figure to its full height. 

" Yes, but, my dear child, what place are they 
to haunt ? The ruin is sacred to your uncle's 



G4 SELINA SEDILIA. 

spirit. Your aunt monopolizes the park, and, I 
must be allowed to state, not unfrequently tres- 
passes upon the grounds of others. The horse- 
pond is frequented by the spirit of your maid, and 
your murdered sister walks these corridors. To 
be plain, there is no room at Sloperton Grange for 
another ghost. I cannot have them in my room, 
— for you know I don't like children. Think of 
this, rash girl, and forbear ! Would you, Selina," 
said the phantom, mournfully, — " would you force 
your great-grandfather's spirit to take lodgings 
elsewhere ? " 

Lady Selina's hand trembled ; the lighted candle 
fell from her nerveless fingers. 

" No," she cried passionately ; " never I " and fell 
fainting to the floor. 



CHAPTER III. 

Edgardo galloped rapidly towards Sloperton. 
When the outline of the Grange had faded away 
in the darkness, he reined his magnificent steed 
beside the ruins of Guy's Keep. 



SELINA SEDILIA. 65 

" It wants but a few minutes of the hour," he 
said, consulting his watch by the light of the moon.j 
" He clare not break his word. He will come." He 
paused, and peered anxiously into the darkness. 
" But come what may, she is mine," he continued, 
as his thoughts reverted fondly to the fair lady he 
had quitted. " Yet if she knew all. If she knew 
that I w^ere a disgraced and ruined man, — a felon 
and an outcast. If she knew that at the age of 
fourteen I murdered my Latin tutor and forged 
my uncle's will. If she knew that I had three 
wives already, and that the fourth victim of mis- 
placed confidence and my unfortunate peculiarity 
is expected to be at Sloperton by to-night's train 
with her baby. But no ; she must not know it. 
Constance must not arrive. Burke the Slogger 
must attend to that. 

" Ha ! here he is ! Well ? " 

These words were addressed to a ruffian in a 
slouched hat, who suddenly appeared from Guy's 
Keep. 

" I he's here, measter," said tlie villain, with a 
disgracefully low accent and complete disregard of 
grammatical rules. 



66 SELINA SEDILIA. 

" It is well. Listen : I 'm in possession of facts 
that will send you to the gallows. I know of the 
murder of Bill Smithers, the robbery of the toll- 
gate-keeper, and the making away of the youn- 
gest daughter of Sir Eeginald de Walton. A word 
from me, and the officers of justice are on your 
track." 

Burke the Slogger trembled. 

" Hark ye ! serve my purpose, and I may yet 
save you. The 5.30 train from Clapham will be 
due at Sloperton at 9.25. It must not arrive ! " 

The villain's eyes sparkled as he nodded at Ed- 
gardo. 

" Enough, — you understand ; leave me ! " 



CHAPTER IV. 

About half a mile from Sloperton Station the 
South Clapham and Medway line crossed a bridge 
over Sloperton-on-Trent. As the shades of even- 
ing were closing, a man in a slouched hat might 
have been seen carrying a saw and axe under his 
arm, hanging about the bridge. From time to 



^ SELINA SEDILIA. 67 

time he disappeared in tile shadow of its abut- 
ments, but the sound of a saw and axe still be- 
trayed his vicinity. At exactly nine o'clock he 
reappeared, and, crossing to the Sloperton side, 
rested his shoulder against the abutment and gave 
a shove. The bridge swayed a moment, and then 
fell with a splash into the water, leaving a space 
of one hundred feet between the two banks. This 
done, Burke the Slogger, — for it was he, — with a 
fiendish chuckle seated himself on the divided 
railway track and awaited the coming of the 
train. 

A shriek from the w^oods announced its ap- 
proach. For an instant Burke the Slogger saw 
the glaring of a red lamp. The ground trembled. 
The train was going with fearful rapidity. An- 
other second and it had reached the bank. Burke 
the Slogger uttered a fiendish laugh. But the 
next moment the train leaped across the chasm, 
striking the rails exactly even, and, dashing out 
the life of Burke the Slogger, sped away to 
Sloperton. 

The first object that greeted Edgardo, as he rode 
up to the station on the arrival of the train, was 



68 SELINA SEDILIA. 

the body of Burke tlie Slogger lianging on the 
cow-catcher; the second was the face of his de- 
serted wife looking from the windows of a second- 
class carriage. 



CHAPTER V. 

A NAMELESS terror seemed to have taken pos- 
session of Clarissa, Lady Selina's maid, as she 
rushed into the presence of her mistress. 

" my lady, such news ! " 

" Explain yourself," said her mistress, rising. 

" An accident has happened on the railway, and 
a man has been killed." 

" What — not Edgardo !" almost screamed Selina. 

" No, Burke the Slogger ! " your ladyship. 

" My first husband ! " said Lady Selina, sinking 
on her knees. " Just Heaven, I thank thee ! '* 



SELINA SEDILIA. 69 



CHAPTER VI. 

The morning of the seventeenth dawned brightly 
over Sloperton. "A fine day for the wedding," 
said the sexton to Swipes, the butler of Sloperton 
Grange. The aged retainer shook his head sadly. 
"Alas! there 's no trusting in signs!" he con- 
tinued. "Seventy-five years ago, on a day like 
this, my young mistress — " But he was cut short 
by the appearance of a stranger. 

" I would see Sir Edgardo," said the new-comer, 
impatiently. 

The bridegroom, who, with the rest of the wed- 
ding-train, was about stepping into the carriage to 
proceed to the parish church, drew the stranger 
aside. 

" It 's done ! " said the stranger, in a hoarse 
whisper. 

" Ah ! and you buried her ? " 

"With the others!" 

" Enough. Ko more at present. Meet me after 
the ceremony, and you shall have your reward." 



70 SELINA SEDILIA. 

The stranger shuffled away, and Edgardo re- 
turned to his bride. " A trifling matter of busi- 
ness I had forgotten, my dear Selina ; let us pro- 
ceed." And the young man pressed the timid hand 
of his blushing bride as he handed her into the 
carriage. The cavalcade rode put of the court-yard. 
At the same moment, the deep bell on Guy's 
Keep tolled ominously. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Scarcely had the wedding-train left the Grange, 
than Alice Sedilia, youngest daughter of Lady 
Selina, made her escape from the western tower, 
owing to a lack of watchfulness on the part of 
Clarissa. The innocent child, freed from restraint, 
rambled through the lonely corridors, and finally, 
opening a door, found herself in her mother's 
boudoir. For some time she amused herself by 
examining the various ornaments and elegant 
trifles with which it was filled. Then, in pur- 
suance of a childish freak, she dressed herself in 
her mother's laces and ribbons. In this occu- 



SELINA SEDILIA. 71 

patioii she chanced to touch a peg which proved 
to be a spring that opened a secret panel in the 
walh Alice uttered a cry of delight as she noticed 
what, to her childish fancy, appeared to be the 
slow-match of a fire-work. Taking a lucifer match 
in her hand she approached the fuse. She hesi- 
tated a moment. What would her mother and 
her nurse say ? 

Suddenly the ringing of the chimes of Sloperton 
parish churcli met lier ear. Alice knew that the 
sound signified that the marriage party had entered 
the church, and that she was secure from inter- 
ruption. With a childish smile upon her lips, 
Alice Sedilia touched off the slow-match. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

At exactly two o'clock on the seventeenth, 
Eupert Sedilia, who had just returned from India, 
was thoughtfully descending the hill toward 
Sloperton manor. " If I can prove that my aunt 
Lady Selina was married before my father died, 



72 SELINA SEDILIA. 

I can establish my claim to Sloperton Grange," 
he uttered, half aloud. He paused, for a sudden 
trembling of the earth beneath his feet, and a 
terrific explosion, as of a park of artillery, arrested 
his progress. At the same moment he beheld a 
dense cloud of smoke envelop the churchyard 
of Sloperton, and the western tower of the Grange 
seemed to be lifted bodily from its foundation. 
The air seemed filled with falling fragments, and 
two dark objects struck the earth close at his feet. 
Eupert picked them up. One seemed to be a 
heavy volume bound in brass. 

A cry burst from his lips. 

" The Parish Eecords." He opened the volume 
hastily. It contained the marriage of Lady Selina 
to " Burke the Slogger." 

The second object proved to be a j)iece of parch- 
ment. He tore it open with trembling fingers. It 
was the missing will of Sir James Sedilia 1 



SELINA SEDILIA. 73 



CHAPTER IX. 

When the bells again rang on the new parish 
church of Sloperton it was for the marriage of Sir 
Kupert Sedilia and his cousin, the only remaining 
members of the family. 

Five more ghosts were added to the supernatural 
population of Sloperton Grange. Perhaps this 
was the reason why Sir Piupert sold the property 
shortly afterward, and that for many years a dark 
shadow seemed to hang over the ruins of Sloper- 
ton Grange. 



THE NINETY-NmE GUARDSMEN. 

By AL— X— D— R D-M— S. 



CHAPTER I. 

SHOWING THE QUALITY OF THE CUSTOMERS OF THE INN- 
KEEPER OF PROVINS. 

Twenty years after, the gigantic innkeeper of 
Provins stood looking at a cloud of dust on the 
highway. 

This cloud of dust betokened the approach of a 
traveller. Travellers had been rare that season on 
the highway between Paris and Provins. 

The heart of the innkeeper rejoiced. Turning 
to Dame Perigord, his wife, he said, stroking his 
white apron : — 

" St. Denis ! make haste and spread the cloth. 
Add a bottle of Charlevoix to the table. This 
traveller, who rides so fast, by his pace must 
be a Monseigneur." 

Truly the traveller, clad in the uniform of a 



THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 75 

musketeer, as lie drew up to the door of the hos- 
telry, did not seem to have s^^ared his horse. 
Throwing his reins to the landlord, he leaped 
lightly to the ground. He was a young man of 
four-and-twenty, and spoke with a slight Gascon 
accent. 

" I am hungry, MorUeu ! I wish to dine ! " 

The gigantic innkeeper bowed and led the way 
to a neat apartment, where a table stood covered 
with tempting viands. The musketeer at once set 
to work. Fowls, fish, and pates disappeared before 
liim. Perigord sighed as he witnessed the devas- 
tations. Only once the stranger paused. 

" Wine ! " Perigord brought wine. Tlie stranger 
drank a dozen bottles. Finally he rose to depart. 
Turning to the expectant landlord, he said : — 

" Charge it." 

" To whom, your highness ? " said Perigord, anx- 
iously. 

'' To his Eminence ! " 

"Mazarin !" ejaculated the innkeeper. 

"The same. Bring me my horse," and the mus- 
keteer, remounting his favorite animal, rode away. 

The innkeeper slowly turned back into the inn. 



76 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 

Scarcely had he reached, the courtyard before the 
clatter of hoofs again called him to the doorway. 
A young musketeer of a light and graceful figure 
rode up. 

" ParUeit, my dear Perigord, I am famishing. 
What have you got for dinner ? " 

" Venison, capons, larks, and pigeons, your excel- 
lency," replied the obsequious landlord, bowing to 
the ground. 

" Enough ! " The young musketeer dismounted 
and entered the inn. Seating himself at the table 
replenished by the careful Perigord, he speedily 
swept it as clean as the first comer. 

" Some wine, my brave Perigord," said the grace- 
ful young musketeer, as soon as he could find ut- 
terance. 

Perigord brought three dozen of Charlevoix. The 
young man emptied them almost at a draught. 

" By-by, Perigord," he said lightly, waving liis 
hand, as, preceding the astonished landlord, he 
slowly withdrew. 

" But, your highness, — the bill," said the as- 
tounded Perigord. 

" Ah, the bill. Charge it ! " 



THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 77 

"To whom?" 
"■ The Queen ! " 
" What, Madame ? " 

" The same. Adieu, my good Perigord." And the 
graceful stranger rode away. An interval of quiet 
succeeded, in which the innkeeper gazed wofuUy 
at his wife. Suddenly he was startled by a clatter 
of hoofs, and an aristocratic figure stood in the 
doorway. 

" Ah," said the courtier good-naturedly. " What, 
do my eyes deceive me ? No, it is tlie festive and 
luxurious Perigord. Perigord, listen. I famish. I 
languish. I would dine." 

The innkeeper again covered the table with 
viands. Again it was swept clean as the fields 
of Egypt before the miraculous swarm of locusts. 
The stranger looked up. 

" Bring me another fowl, my Perigord." 
"Impossible, your excellency; the larder is 
stripped clean." 

" Another flitch of bacon, then." 
" Impossible, your highness ; there is no 
more." 

" Well, then, wine ! " 



78 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 

The landlord brought one hnndred and forty- 
four bottles. The courtier drank them all. 

" One may drink if one cannot eat," said the 
aristocratic stranger, good-lmmoredly. 

The innkeeper shuddered. 

The guest rose to depart. The innkeeper came 
slowly forward with his bill, to which he had 
covertly added the losses which he had suffered 
from the previous strangers. 

" Ah, the biU. Charge it." 

" Charge it ! to whom ? " 

'' To the King," said the guest. 

''What! his Majesty?" 

" Certainly. Farewell, Perigord." 

The innkeeper gToaned. Then he went out and 
took down his sign. Then remarked to his wife : — 

" I am a plain man, and don't understand poli- 
tics. It seems, however, that the country is in a 
troubled state. Between his Eminence the Cardi- 
nal, his Majesty the King, and her Majesty the 
Queen, I am a ruined man." 

" Stay," said Dame Perigord, " I have an idea." 

" And that is — " 

" Become yourself a musketeer." 



THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 79 



CHAPTER II. 

THE COMBAT. 

On. leaving Provins tlie first musketeer pro- 
ceeded to N"angis, where he was reinforced by 
thirty-three followers. The second musketeer, ar- 
riving at Nangis at the same moment, placed him- 
self at the head of thirty-three more. The third 
guest of the landlord of Provins arrived at Nan- 
gis in time to assemble together thirty-three other 
musketeers. 

The first stranger led the troops of his Emi- 
nence. 

The second led the troops of the Queen. 

The third led the troops of the King. 

The fight commenced. It raged terribly for 
seven hours. The first musketeer killed thirty of 
the Queen's troops. The second musketeer killed 
thirty of the King's troops. The third musketeer 
killed thirty of his Eminence's troops. 

By this time it will be perceived the number of 



80 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 

musketeers had been narrowed down to "four on 
each side. 

Naturally the three principal warriors approached 
each other. 

They simultaneously uttered a cry. 

" Aramis ! " 

" Athos ! " 

" D'Artagnan ! " 

They fell into each other's arms. 

" And it seems that we are fighting against each 
other, my children," said the Count de la Fere, 
mournfully. 

" How singular ! " exclaimed Aramis and D'Ar- 
tagnan. 

" Let us stop this fratricidal warfare," said Athos. 

" We will 1 " they exclaimed together. 

" But how to disband our followers ? " queried 
D'Artagnan. 

Aramis winked. They understood each other. 
" Let us cut 'em down ! " 

They cut 'em down. Aramis killed three. D'Ar- 
tagnan three. Athos three. 

The friends again embraced. "How like old 
times," said Aramis. " How touchin^y ! " exclaimed 
the serious and philosophic Count de la Fere. 



TfiE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 81 

The galloping of hoofs caused them to withdraw 
from each other's embraces. A gigantic figure 
rapidly approached. 

" The innkeeper of Provins I " they cried, draw- 
ing their swords. 

" Perigord, down with him ! " shouted D'Ar- 
tagnan. • 

" Stay," said Athos. 

The gigantic figure was beside them. He uttered 
a cry. 

" Athos, Aramis, D Artagnan ! " 

" Porthos ! " exclaimed the astonished trio. 

" The same." They all fell in each other's arms. 

The Count de la Fere slowly raised his hands to 
Heaven. " Bless you ! Bless us, my children ! 
However different our opinion may be in regard 
to politics, we have but one opinion in regard to 
our own merits. Where can you find a better 
man tlran Aramus ? " 

" Than Porthos ? " said Aramis. 

" Than D' Artagnan ^ " said Porthos. 

" Than Athos ? " said D'Artagnan. 



4* 



THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 



CHAPTER III. 

SHOWING HOW THE KING OF FRANCE WENT UP A LADDER. 

The King descended into the garden. Proceed- 
ing cautiously along the terraced walk,*he came to 
the wall immediately below the windows of Ma- 
dame. To the left were two windows, concealed by 
vines. They opened into the apartments of La 
A'alliere. 

The King sighed. 

" It is about nineteen feet to that window/' said 
the King. " If I had a ladder about nineteen feet 
long, it would reach to that window. This is 
logic." 

Suddenly the King stumbled over something. 
" St. Denis ! " he exclaimed, looking down. It 
was a ladder, just nineteen feet long. 

The King placed it against the wall. In so 
doing, he fixed the lower end upon the abdomen 
of a man who lay concealed by the wall. The 
man did not u.tter a cry or wince. The King sus- 
pected nothing. He ascended the ladder. 



THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 83 

The ladder was too short. Louis the Grand was 
not a tall man. He was still two feet below the 
window. 

** Dear me ! " said the King. 

Suddenly the ladder was lifted two feet from 
below. This enabled the King to leap in the 
window. At the farther end of the apartment 
stood a young girl, with red hair and a lame leg. 
She was trembling with emotion. 

" Louise ! " 

^' The King!" 

" Ah, my God, mademoiselle." 

"Ah, my God, sire." 

But a low knock at the door interrupted the 
lovers. The King uttered a cry of rage; Louise 
one of despair. 

The door opened and D'Artagnan entered. 

" Good evening, sire," said the musketeer. 

The King touched a bell. Porthos appeared in 
the doorway. 

" Good evening, sire." 

"Arrest M. D'Artagnan." 

Porthos looked at D'Artagnan, and did not 
move. 



84 THE KINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 

Tbe King almost turned purple with rage. IIo 
• again touched the bell. Athos entered. 

" Count, arrest Porthos and D'Artagnan." 

The Count de la Fere glanced at Porthos and 
D'Artagnan, and smiled sweetly. 

" Sacre ! Where is Aramis ? " said the King, 
violently. 

" Here, sire," and Aramis entered. 

" Arrest Athos, Porthos, and D'Artagnan." 

Aramis bowed and folded his arms. 

" Arrest yourself ! " 

Aramis did not move. 

The King shuddered and turned pale. "Am I 
not King of France ? " 

" Assuredly, sire, but we are also severally, Por- 
thos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, and Athos." 

"Ah!" said the King. 

" Yes, sire." 

" What does this mean ? " 

" It means, your Majesty," said Aramis, stepping 
forward, "that your conduct as a married man is 
highly improper. I am an Abbe, and I object to 
these improprieties. My friends here, D'Artagnan, 
Athos, and Porthos, pure-minded young men, are 



THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. 85 

also terribly shocked. Observe, sire, how they 
blush ! " 

Athos, Porthos, and.«-D'Art'agnan blushed. 

" Ah/' said the King, thoughtfully. " You teach 
me a lesson. You are devoted and noble young 
gentlemen, but your only weakness is your exces- 
sive modesty. From this moment I make you all 
Marshals and Dukes, with the exception of 
Aramis. 

" And me, sire ? " said Aramis. 

" You shall be an Archbisliop ! " 

The four friends looked up and then rushed into 
each other's arms. The King embraced Louise de 
la Valliere, by way of keeping them company. A 
pause ensued. At last Athos spoke : — 

"Swear, my children, that, next to yourselves, 
you will respect — the King of France ; and re- 
member that 'Forty years after' we will meet 



THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 

By sir ED— D L— TT— N B— LW— R. 



BOOK I. 

THE PROMPTINGS OF THE IDEAL. 

It was noon. Sir Edward had stepped from 
his brougham and was proceeding on foot down 
the Strand. He was dressed with his usual fault- 
less taste, but in alighting from his vehicle his 
foot had slipped, and a small round disk of con- 
glomerated soil, which instantly appeared on 
his high arched instep, marred the harmonious 
glitter of his boots. Sir Edward was fastidious. 
Casting his eyes around, at a little distance lie 
perceived the stand of a youthful bootblack. 
Thither he sauntered, and carelessly placing his 
foot on the low stool, he waited the application of 
the polisher's art. " 'T is true," said Sir Edward 
to himself, yet half aloud, "the contact of the 
Foul and the Disgusting mars the general effect 



THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 87 

of the Shiny and the Beautiful— and, yet, why 
am I here ? I repeat it, calmly and deliberately 
— why am I here ? Ha ! Boy ! " 

The Boy looked up — his dark Italian eyes 
glanced intelligently at the Philosopher, and as 
with one hand he tossed back his glossy curls 
from his marble brow, and with the other he 
spread the equally glossy Day & Martin over the 
Baronet's boot, he answered in deep rich tones: 
"The Ideal is subjective to the Pveal. The exer- 
cise of apperception gives a distinctiveness to 
idiocracy, which is, however, subject to the limits 
of Me. You are an admirer of the Beautiful, sir. 
You wish your boots blacked. The Beautiful is 
attainable by means of the Coin." 

"Ah," said Sir Edward thoughtfully, gazing 
upon the almost supernal beauty of the Child 
before him; "you speak well. You have read 
Kant.'' 

The Boy blushed deeply. He drew a copy of 
Kant from his blouse, but in his confusion several 
other volumes dropped from his bosom on the 
ground. The Baronet picked them up. 

" Ah ! " said the Pliilosopher, " what 's this ? 



88 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 

Cicero s Be Senedute, at your age, too ? Martial's 
Epigra^ns, Ccesars Commentaries. AVliat ! a clas- 
sical scholar ? " 

" E pluribus Unum. Nnx vomica. Nil despe- 
randum. Nihil fit ! " said the Boy, enthusiastically. 
The Philosopher gazed at the Child. A strange 
presence seemed to transfuse and possess him. 
Over the brow of the Boy glittered the pale nim- 
bus of the Student. 

" Ah, and Schiller's Rollers, too ? " queried the 
Philosopher. 

" Das ist ausgespielt," said the Boy, modestly. 

" Then you have read my translation of Schiller's 
Ballads ? " continued the Baronet, with some show 
of interest. 

" I have, and infinitely prefer them to the origi- 
nal," said the Boy, with intellectual warmth. " You 
have shown how in Actual life we strive for a Goal 
we cannot reach; how in the Ideal the Goal is 
attainable, and there effort is victory. You have 
given us the Antithesis which is a key to the 
Kemainder, and constantly balances before us the 
conditions of the Actual and the privileges of the 
Ideal." 



THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 89 

" My very words," said the Baronet ; " wonder- 
ful, wonderful ! " and lie gazed fohdly at the Italian 
boy, who again resumed his menial employment. 
Alas ! the wings of the Ideal were folded. The 
Student had been absorbed in the Boy. 

But Sir Edward's boots were blacked, and he 
turned to depart. Placing his hand upon the 
clustering tendrils that surrounded the classic 
nob of the infant Italian, he said softly, like a 
strain of distant music : — 

"Boy, you have done well. Love the Good. 
Protect the Innocent. Provide for The Indigent. 

Eespect the Philosopher Stay ! Can you 

tell we what is The True, The Beautiful, The In- 
nocent, The Virtuous ? " 

" They are things that commence with a capital 
letter," said the Boy, promptly. 

" Enough ! Eespect everything that commences 
with a capital letter ! Ptespect Me 1 " and drop- 
ping a half-penny in the hand of the boy, he 
departed. 

The Boy gazed fixedly at the coin. A frightful 
and instantaneous change overspread his features. . 
His noble brow was corrugated with baser lines 



90 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 

of- calculation. His black eje, serpent-like, glit- 
tered with suppressed passion. Dropping upon 
his hands and feet, he crawled to the curbstone 
and hissed after the retreating form of the Baronet, 
the single word : — 
"Bilk!" 



BOOK II. 

IN THE WORLD. 

" Eleven years ago," said Sir Edward to him- 
self, as his brougham slowly rolled him toward 
the Committee Eoom; "just eleven years ago my 
natural son disappeared mysteriously. I have no 
doubt in the world but that this little bootblack 
is he. His mother died in Italy. He resembles 
his mother very much. Perhaps I ouglit to pro- 
vide for him. Shall I disclose myself ? No ! no ! 
Better he should taste the sweets of Labor. Pen- 
ury ennobles the mind and kindles the Love of 
the Beautiful. I will act to him, not like a 
Eather, not like a Guardian, not like a Friend — 
but like a Philosopher ! " 



THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 91 

With tliese words, Sir Edward entered the Com- 
mittee Eoom. His Secretary approached him. 
" Sir Edward, there are fears of a division in the 
House, and the Prime Minister has sent for you." 

" I will be there," said Sir Edward, as he placed 
his hand on his chest and uttered a hollow cough ! 

No one who heard the Baronet that night, in his 
sarcastic and withering speech on the Drainage 
and Sewerage Bill, would have recognized the 
lover of the Ideal and the Philosopher of the Beau- 
tifid. No one wdio listened to his eloquence would 
have dreamed of the Spartan resolution this iron 
man had taken in regard to the Lost Boy — his 
own beloved Lionel. None ! 

" A fine speech from Sir Edward to-night," said 
Lord Billingsgate, as, arm-and-arm -with the Pre- 
mier, he entered his carriage. 

" Yes ! but how dreadfully he coughs ! " 

" Exactly. Dr. Bolus says his lungs are entirely 
gone ; he breathes entirely by an effort of will, and 
altogether independent of pulmonary assistance." 

" How strange ! " and the carriage rolled away. 



92 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 

BOOK III. 

THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD, 

" Adon Ai, appear ! appear ! " 

And as the Seer spoke, the awful Presence glided 
out of Nothingness, and sat, sphinx-like, at the feet 
of the Alchemist. 

" I am come ! " said the Thing. 

" You should say, ' I have come,' — it 's better 
grammar," said the Boy-Neophyte, thoughtfully 
accenting the substituted expression. 

" Hush, rash Boy," said the Seer, sternly. "Would 
you oppose your feeble knowledge to the infinite 
intelligence of the Unmistakable ? A word, and 
you are lost forever." 

The Boy breathed a silent prayer, and, handing 
a sealed package to the Seer, begged him to 
liand it to his father in case of his premature de- 
cease. 

" You have sent for me," hissed the Presence. 
" Behold me, Apokatharticon, — the Unpronounce- 
able. In me all things exist that are not already 



THE DWELLER OF THE THKESHOLD. 93 

coexistent. I am the Unattainable, the Intangi- 
ble, the Cause, and the Effect. In me observe the 
Brahma of Mr. Emerson ; not only Brahma him- 
self, but also the sacred musical composition re- 
hearsed by the faithful Hindoo." I am the real 
Gyges. None others are genuine." 

And the veiled Son of the Starbeam laid him- 
self loosely about the room, and permeated Space 
generally. 

" Unfathomable Mystery," said the Eosicrucian 
in a low, sweet voice. " Brave Child with the Vitre- 
ous Optic ! Thou who pervadest all things and 
rubbest against us without abrasion of the cuticle. 
I command thee, speak ! " 

And the misty, intangible, indefinite Presence 
spoke. 



BOOK IV. 

MYSELF. 

Aftee the events related in the last chapter, the 
reader will perceive that nothing was easier than 
to reconcile Sir Edward to his son Lionel, nor to 
resuscitate the beautiful Italian girl, who, it ap- 



94 THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. 

pears, was not dead, and to cause Sir Edward to 
marry his first and boyish love, whom he had de- 
serted. They were married in St. George's, Han- 
over Square. As the bridal party stood before the 
altar. Sir Edward, with a sw^eet sad smile, said, in 
quite his old manner : — 

" The Sublime and Beautiful are the Eeal ; the 
only Ideal is the Eidiculous and Homely. Let us 
always remember this. Let us through life en- 
deavor to personify the virtues, and always begin 
'em with a capital letter. Let us, whenever we 
can find an opportunity, deliver our sentiments in 
the form of round-hand copies. Eespect the Aged. 
Eschew Vulgarity. Admire Ourselves. Eegard 
the Novelist." 



THE HAUNTED MAN 

A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
By CH— R— S D— CK— N— S. 



PART I. 

THE FIRST PHANTOM. 

Don't tell me that it was n't a knocker. I had 
seen it often enough, and I ought to know. So 
ought the three-o'clock beer, in dirty high-lows, 
swinging himself over the railing, or executing a 
demoniacal jig upon the doorstep ; so ought the 
butcher, although butchers as a general thing are 
scornful of such trifles ; so ought the postman, to 
whom knockers of the most extravagant descrip- 
tion were merely human weaknesses, that were to 
be pitied and used. And so ought, for the matter 
of that, etc., etc., etc. 

But then it was such a knocker. A wdld, ex- 
travagant, and utterly incomprehensible knocker. 
A knocker so mysterious and suspicious that 
Policeman X 37, first coming upon it, felt inclined 



96 THE HAUNTED MAN. 

to take it instantly in custody, but compromised 
with liis professional instincts by sharply and 
sternly noting it with an eye that admitted of no 
nonsense, but confidently expected to detect its 
secret yet. An ugly knocker ; a knocker with a 
hard, human face, that was a type of the harder 
human face within. A human face that held be- 
tween its teeth a brazen rod. So hereafter, in the 
mysterious future should be held, etc., etc. 

But if the knocker had a fierce human aspect 
in the glare of day, you should have seen it^at 
night, when it peered out of the gathering shadows 
and suggested an ambushed figure ; when the light 
of the street lamps fell upon it, and wrought a 
play of sinister expression in its hard outlines ; 
when it seemed to wink meaningly at a shrouded 
figure who, as the night fell darkly, crept up the 
steps and passed into the mysterious house ; when 
the swinging door disclosed a black passage into 
which the figure seemed to lose itself and become 
a part of the mysterious gloom ; when the night 
grew boisterous and tlie fierce wind made furious 
charges at the knocker, as if to wrench it off and 
carry it away in triumph. Such a night as this. 



THE HAUNTED MAN. 97 

It was a wild and pitiless wind. A wind tliat 
had commenced life as a gentle country zephyr, 
but wandering through manufacturing towns had 
become demoralized, and reaching the city had 
plunged into extravagant dissipation and wild ex- 
cesses. A roistering wind that indulged in Bac- 
chanalian sliouts on the street corners, that knocked 
off the hats from the heads of helpless passengers, 
and then fulfilled its duties by speeding away, like 
all young prodigals, — to sea. 

He sat alone in a gloomy library listening to the 
wind that roared in the chimney. Around him 
novels and story-books were strewn thickly; in 
his lap he held one with its pages freshly cut, and 
turned the leaves wearily until his eyes rested 
upon a portrait in its frontispiece. And as the wind 
howled the more fiercely, and the darkness with- 
out fell blacker, a strange and fateful likeness to 
that portrait appeared above his chair and leaned 
upon his shoulder. The Haunted Man gazed at 
the portrait and sighed. The figure gazed at the 
portrait and sighed too. 

" Here again ? " said the Haunted Man. 

" Here again," it repeated in a low voice. 



98 THE HAUNTED MAN. 

" Another novel ? " 

'' Another novel." 

" The old story ? " 

" The old story." 

" I see a child," said the Haunted Man, gazing 
from the pages of the book into the fire, — "a most 
unnatural child, a model infant. It is premature- 
ly old and philosophic. It dies in poverty to slow 
nmsic. It dies surrounded by luxury to slow 
music. It dies with an accompaniment of golden 
water and rattling carts to slow music. Previous 
to its decease it makes a will ; it repeats the Lord's 
Prayer, it kisses the ' boofer lady.' That child — " 

" Is mine," said the phantom. 

" I see a good woman, undersized. I see several 
charming women, but they are all undersized. 
They are more or less imbecile and idiotic, but 
always fascinating and undersized". They wear 
coquettish caps and aprons. I observe that femi- 
nine virtue is invariably below the medium height, 
and that it is always simple and infantine. These 
women — " 

" Are mine." 

" I see a haughty, proud, and wicked lady. She 



THE HAUNTED MAN. 99 

is tall and queenly. I remark that all proud and 
wicked women are tall and queenly. That wo- 
man — " 

" Is mine/' said the phantom, wringing his 
hands. 

" I see several things continually impending. I 
observe that whenever an accident, a murder, or 
death is about to happen, there is something in the 
furniture, in the locality, in the atmosi)here, that 
foreshadows and suggests it years in advance. I 
cannot say that in real life I have noticed it, — 
the perception of this surprising fact belongs — " 

" To me ! " said the phantom. The Haunted 
Man continued, in a despairing tone : — 

" I see the influence of this in the magazines 
and daily papers ; I see weak imitators rise up and 
enfeeble the world with senseless formula. I am 
getting tired of it. It won't do, Charles ! it Won't 
do ! " and the Haunted Man buried his head in his 
hands and groaned. The figure looked down upon 
him sternly : the portrait in the frontispiece frowned 
as he gazed. 

" Wretched man," said the phantom, " and how 
have these things affected you ? " 



100 THE HAUNTED MAN. 

''Ouce I laughed and cried, but then I was 
younger. Now, I would forget them if I could." 

" Have then your wish. And take this with 
you, man whom I renounce. From this day hence- 
forth you shall live with those whom I displace. 
Without forgetting me, 't will be your lot to walk 
through life as if we had • not met. But first you 
shall survey these scenes that henceforth must be 
yours. At one to-night, prepare to meet the phan- 
tom I have raised. Farewell ! " 

The sound of its voice seemed to fade away 
with the dying wind, and the Haunted Man was 
alone. But the firelight flickered gayly, and the 
light danced on the walls, making grotesque figures 
of the furniture. 

" Ha, ha ! " said the Haunted Man, rubbing his 
hands gleefully ; " now for a whiskey punch and a 
cigar." 



THE HAUNTED MAN. 101 



BOOK II. 

THE SECOND PHANTOM. 

One ! The stroke of the far-off bell had liardly 
died before the front door closed with a reverberat- 
ing ■ clang. Steps were beard along the passage ; 
the library door swung open of itself, and the 
Knocker — yes, the Knocker — slowly strode 
into the room. The Haunted Man rubbed his 
eyes, — no ! there could be no mistake about it, — 
it was the Knocker's face, mounted on a misty, 
almost imperceptible body. The brazen rod was 
transferred from its mouth to its righf hand, where 
it was held like a ghostly truncheon. 

" It 's a cold evening," said the Haunted Man. 

" It is," said the Goblin, in a hard, metallic 
voice. 

" It must be pretty cold out there," said the 
Haunted Man, with vague politeness. " Do you 
ever — will you — take some hot water and 
brandy ? " 

" No," said the Goblin. 



102 THE HAUNTED MAN. 

" Perhaps you 'd like it cold, by way of change ? " 
continued the Haunted Man, correcting himself, as 
he remembered the peculiar temperature with 
which the Goblin was probably familiar. 

" Time flies," said the Goblin coldly. " We have 
no leisure for idle talk. Come ! " He moved his 
ghostly truncheon toward the window, and laid his 
hand upon the other's arm. At his touch the body 
of the Haunted Man seemed to become as thin and 
incorporeal as that of the Goblin himself, and to- 
gether they glided out of the window into the 
black and blowy night. 

In the rapidity of their flight the senses of the 
Haunted Man seemed to leave him. At length 
they stopped* suddenly. 

" What do you see ? " asked the Goblin. 

" I see a battlemented mediaeval castle. Gallant 
men in mail ride over the drawbridc^e, and kiss 
their gauntleted fingers to fair ladies, who wave 
their lily hands in return. I see fight and fray 
and tournament. I hear roaring heralds bawling 
the charms of delicate women, and shamelessly 
proclaiming their lovers. Stay. I see a JcAvess 
about to leap from a battlement. I see knightly 



THE HAUNTED MAN. 103 

deeds, violence, rapine, and a good deal of blood. 
I 've seen pretty much the same at Astley's." 

" Look again." 

" I see purple moors, glens, masculine women, 
bare-legged men, priggish book-worms, more vio- 
lence, physical excellence, and blood. Always 
blood, — and the superiority of physical attain- 
ments." 

" And how do you feel now ? " said the Goblin. 

The Haunted Man shrugged his shoulders. 
"None the better for being carried back and 
asked to sympathize with a barbarous age." 

The Goblin smiled and clutched his arm ; they 
again sped rapidly through the black night and 
again halted. 

" What do you see ? " said the Goblin. 

" I see a barrack room, Avith a mess table, and a 
group of intoxicated Celtic officers telling funny 
stories, and giving challenges to duel. I see a 
young Irish gentleman capable of performing 
prodigies of valor. I learn incidentally that the 
acme of all heroism is tlie cornetcy of a dragoon 
regiment. I hear a good deal of French 1 Xo, 
thank you," said the Haunted Man hurriedly, as 



104 THE HAUNTED MAN. 

he stayed tlie waving liand of the Goblin ; " I 
would rather not go to the Peninsula, and don't 
care to have a private interview with ^N'apo- 
leon." 

Again the Goblin flew away with the unfor- 
tunate man, and from a strange roaring below 
them he judged they were above the ocean. A 
ship hove in sight, and the Goblin stayed its 
flight. " Look," he said, squeezing his companion's 
arm. 

The Haunted Man yawned. " Don't you think, 
Charles, you 're rather running this thing into the 
gTound ? Of course it 's very moral and instruc- 
tive, and all that. But ain't there a little too 
much pantomime about it ? Come now ! " 

" Look I " repeated the Goblin, pinching liis arm 
malevolently. The Haunted Man groaned. 

" O, of course, I see her Majesty's ship Are- 
thusa. Of course I am familiar with her stern 
First Lieutenant, her eccentric Captain, her one 
fascinating and several mischievous midshipmen. 
Of course I know it 's a splendid thing to see all 
this, and not to be seasick. 0, there the young 
gentlemen are going to play a trick on the purser. 



THE HAUNTED MAN. 105 

For God's sake, let us go," and the unhappy man 
absolutely dragged the Goblin away with him. 

AVhen they next halted, it was at the edge of a 
broad and boundless prairie, in the middle of an 
oak opening. 

" I see," said the Haunted Man, without waiting 
for his cue, but mechanically, and as if he were 
repeating a lesson which the Goblin had taught 
him, — "I see the Noble Savage. He is very fine to 
look at ! But I observe under his war-paint, 
feathers, and picturesque blanket, dirt, disease, 
and an un symmetrical contour. I observe beneath 
his inflated rhetoric deceit and hypocrisy ; be- 
neath his physical hardihood, cruelty, malice, and 
revenge. The Noble Savage is a humbug. I re- 
marked the same to Mr. Catlin." 

" Come," said the phantom. 

The Haunted Man sighed, and took out his 
watch. " Could n't we do the rest of this another 
time ? " 

" My hour is almost spent, irreverent being, 
but there is yet a chance for ypur reformation. 
Come ! " 

Again they sped through the night, and again 
5* 



106 THE HAUNTED MAN. 

halted. The sound of delicious but melancholy 
music fell upon their ears. 

" I see," said the Haunted Man, with something 
of interest in his manner, — "I see an old moss- 
covered manse beside a slug^gif^, flowinor river. I 
see weird shapes : witches, Puritans, clergymen, lit- 
tle children, judges, mesmerized maidens, moving 
to the sound of melody that thrills me with its 
sweetness and purity. But, although carried along 
its calm and evenly flowing current, the shapes are 
strange and frightful : an eating lichen gnaws at the 
heart of each. Not only the clergymen, but witch, 
maiden, judge, and Puritan, all wear Scarlet Letters 
of some kind burned upon their hearts. I am fas- 
cinated and thrilled, but I feel a morbid sensitive- 
ness creeping over me. I — I beg your pardon." 
The Goblin was yawning frightfully. '' Well, per- 
haps we had better go." 

" One more, and the last," said the Goblin. 

They were moving home. Streaks of red were 
beginning to appear in the eastern sky. Along the 
banks of the blackly flowing river by moorland 
and stagnant fens, by low liouses, clustering close 
to the water's edge, like strange moUusks, crawled 



THE HAUNTED MAN. '107 

upon the beacli to dry ; by misty black barges, the 
more misty and indistinct seen through its mys- 
terious veil, the river fog was slowly rising. So 
rolled away and rose from the heart of the 
Haunted Man, etc., etc. 

They stopped before a quaint mansion of red 
brick. The Goblin waved his hand without speak- 
ing. 

"I see," said the Haimted Man, "a gay draw- 
ing-room. I see my old friends of the club, of 
the college, of society, even as they lived and 
moved. I see the gallant and unselfish men, 
whom I have loved, and the snobs wliom I have 
hated. I see strangely mingling with them, and 
now and then blending with their forms, our old 
friends Dick Steele, Addison, and Congreve. I 
observe, though, that these gentlemen have a 
habit of getting too much in the way. The royal 
standard of Queen Anne, not in itself a beautiful 
ornament, is rather too prominent in the picture. 
The long galleries of black oak, tlie formal furni- 
ture, the old portraits, are picturesque, but de- 
pressing. The house is damp. I enjoy myself 
better liere on the lawn, where they are getting 



108* THE HAUNTED MAN. 

up a Vanity Fair. See, the bell rings, the curtain 
is rising, the puppets are brought out for a new 
play. Let me see." 

The Haunted Man was pressing forward in his 
eagerness, but the hand of the Gobhn stayed him, 
and pointing to his feet he saw, between him and 
the rising curtain, a new-made grave. And bend- 
ing above the grave in passionate grief, the 
Haunted Man beheld the phantom of the pre- 
vious night 

•^ 7^ TfC ^ /JC 

The Haunted Man started, and — woke. The 
bright sunshine streamed into the room. The air 
was sparkling with frost. He ran joyously to the 
window and opened it. A small boy saluted him 
with " Merry Cliristmas." The Haunted Man in- 
stantly gave him a Bank of England note. " How 
much like Tiny Tim, Tom, and Bobby that boy 
looked, — bless my soul, what a genius this Dick-' 
ens has I " 

A knock at the door, and Boots entered. 

" Consider your salary doubled instantly. Have 
you read David Copperfield ? " 

"Yezzur." 



THE HAUNTED MAN. 109 

" Your salary is quadrupled. What do you 
think of the Old Curiosity Shop?" 

The man instantly burst into a torrent of tears, 
and then into a roar of laughter. 

" Enough ! Here are five thousand pounds. 
Open a porter-house, and call it, ' Our Mutual 
Friend.' Huzza! I feel so happy!" And the 
Haunted Man danced about the room. 

And so, bathed in the light of that blessed sun, 
and yet glowing with the warmth of a good action, 
the Haunted Man, haunted no longer, save by 
those shapes which make the dreams of children 
beautiful, reseated himself in his chair, and fin- 
ished Om^ Ilutual Friend. 



MISS MIX. 

By CH— L— TTE BR-NTE. 



CHAPEER I. 

My earliest impressions are of a huge, mis- 
shapen rock, against which the hoarse waves 
beat unceasingly. On this rock three pelicans 
are standing in a defiant attitude. A dark sky 
lowers in the background, while two sea-gulls 
and a gigantic cormorant eye with extreme dis- 
favor the floating corpse of a drowned woman in 
the foreground. A few bracelets, coral necklaces, 
and other articles of jewelry, scattered around 
loosely, complete this remarkable picture. 

It is one which, in some vague, unconscious 
way, symbolizes, to my fancy, the character of a 
man. I have never been able to explain exactly 
why. I think I must have seen the picture in 
some illustrated volume, when a baby, or my 
mother may have dreamed it before I was born. 



MISS MIX. Ill 

As a child I was not Jiandsome. Wlien I con- 
sulted the triangular hit of looking-glass which I 
always carried with me, it showed a pale, sandy, 
and freckled face, shaded hy locks like the color 
of seaweed when the sun strikes it in deep water. 
My eyes were said to he indistinctive ; they were 
a faint, ashen gray;, hut ahove them rose — my 
only heauty — a high, massive, domelike forehead, 
with polished temples, like door-knobs of the 
purest porcelain. 

Our family was a family of governesses. My 
mother had been one, and my sisters had the 
same occupation. Consequently, when, at the age 
of thirteen, my eldest sister handed me the adver- 
tisement of Mr. Eawjester, clipped from that day's 
" Times," I accepted it as my destiny. Neverthe- 
less, a mysterious presentiment of an indefinite 
future haunted me in my dreams that night, as I 
lay upon my httle snow-white bed. The next 
morning, with two bandboxes tied up in silk hand- 
kerchiefs, and a hair trunk, I turned my back 
upon Minerva Cottage forever. 



112. MISS MIX. 



CHAPTER II. 

Blunderbore Hall, the seat of James Eaw- 
j ester, Esq., was encompassed by dark pines and 
funereal hemlocks on all sides. Tlie wind sang 
weirdly in the turrets and moaned through the 
long-drawn avenues of the park. As I approached 
the house I saw several mysterious figures flit be- 
fore the windows, and a yell of demoniac laughter 
answered . my summons at the bell. AVhile I 
strove to repress my gloomy forebodings, the 
housekeeper, a timid, scared-looking- old woman, 
showed me into the library. 

I entered, overcome with conflicting emotions. 
I was dressed in a narrow go^^^n of dark serge, 
trimmed wdth black bugles. A thick green shawl 
was pinned across my breast. My hands were 
encased with black half-mittens worked with steel 
beads ; on my feet were large pattens, originally 
the property of my deceased grandmother. I 
carried a blue cotton umbrella. As I jDassed 
before a mirror, I could not help glancing at it, 



MISS MIX. 113 

nor could I disguise from myself the fact that 
I was not handsome. 

Drawing a chair into a recess, I sat down with 
folded hands, calmly awaiting the arrival of my 
master. Once or twice a fearful yell rang through 
the house, or the rattling of chains, and curses 
uttered in a deep, manly voice, broke upon the 
oppressive stillness. I began to feel my soul 
rising with the emergency of the moment. 

" You look alarmed, miss. You don't hear any- 
thing, my dear, do you ? " asked the housekeeper 
nervously. 

''Nothing whatever," I remarked calmly, as a 
terrific scream, followed by the dragging of chairs 
and tables in the room above, drowned for a 
moment my reply. "It is the silence, on the con- 
trary, which has made me foolishly nervous." 

The housekeeper looked at me approvingly, and 
instantly made some tea for me. 

I drank seven cups ; as I was beginning the 
eighth, I heard a crash, and the next moment a 
man leaped into the room through the broken 
window. 



114 MISS MIX. 



CHAPTER III. 

The crash starrtled me from my self-control. The 
housekeeper bent toward me and whispered : — 

"Don't be excited. It 's Mr. Eawjester, — he 
prefers to come in sometimes in this way. It 's 
his playfulness, ha ! ha ! ha ! " 

" I perceive," I said calmly. " It 's the unfettered 
impulse of a lofty soul breaking the tyrannizing 
bonds of custom." And I turned toward him. 

He had never once looked at me. He stood 
with his back to the fire, which set off the hercu- 
lean breadth of his shoulders. His face was dark 
and expressive ; his under jaw squarely formed, 
and remarkably heavy. I was struck with his 
remarkable likeness to a Gorilla. 

As he absently tied the poker into hard knots 
with his nervous fingers, I watched him with some 
interest. Suddenly he turned toward me : — 

" Do you think I 'm handsome, young woman ? " 

" Not classically beautiful," I returned calmly ; 
" but you have, if 1 may so express myself, an 



MISS MIX. 115 

abstract manliness, — a sincere and wholesome 
barbarity which, involving as it does the natural- 
ness — " But I stopped, for he yawned at that 
moment, — an action which singularly developed 
the immense breadth of his lower jaw, — and I 
saw he had forgotten me. Presently he turned to 
the housekeeper : — 

" Leave us." 

The old woman withdrew vith a courtesy. 

Mr. Eawj ester deliberately turned his back upon 
me and remained silent for twenty minutes. I 
drew my shawl the more closely around my shoul- 
ders and closed my eyes. 

" You are the governess ? " at length he said. 

" I am, sir." 

" A creature who teaches geography, arithmetic, 
and the use of the globes — ha ! — a wretched 
remnant of femininity, — a skimp pattern of girl- 
hood with a premature flavor of tea-leaves and 
moraKty. Ugh ! " 

I bowed my head silently. 

" Listen to me, girl ! " he said sternly ; " this cliild 
you have come to teach — my ward — is not legit- 
imate. She is the offspring of my mistress, — a 



116 MISS MIX. 

common harlot. Ah ! Miss Mix, what do you 
think of me now ? " 

" I admire/' I replied calmly, " your sincerity. 
A mawkish regard for delicacy might have kept 
this disclosure to yourself. I only recognize in 
your frankness that perfect community of thought 
and sentiment wdiich should exist between original 
natures." 

I looked up ; he liad already forgotten my pres- 
ence, and was engaged in pulling off his boots and 
coat. This done, he sank down in an arm-chair 
before the fire, and ran the poker wearily through 
his hair. I could not help pitying him. 

The wind howled dismally without, and the rain 
beat furiously against the windows. I crept to- 
ward him and seated myself on a low stool beside 
his chair. 

Presently he turned, without seeing me, and 
placed his foot absently in my lap. I affected not 
to notice it. But he started and looked down. 

" You here yet — Carrothead ? Ah, I forgot. 
Do you speak French ? " 

" Old, Monsieur^ 

" Taiscz-vous ! " he said sharply, with singular 



MISS MIX. il7 

purity of accent. I complied. The wind moaned 
fearfully in the chinniey, and the light burned 
dimly. I shuddered in spite of myself. "Ah, 
you tremble, girl 1 " 

" It is a fearful night." 

" Fearful ! Call you this fearful, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
Look ! you wretched little atom, look ! " and he 
dashed forward, and, leaping out of the window, 
stood like a statue in the pelting storm, with 
folded arms. He did not stay long, but in a few 
minutes returned by way of the hall chinmey. I 
saw from the way that he wiped his feet on my 
dress that he had again forgotten my presence. 

" You are a governess. What can you teach ? " 
he asked, suddenly and fiercely thrusting his face 
in mine. 

" Manners ! " I replied, calmly. 

" Ha ! teach me ! " 

"You mistake yourself," I said, adjusting my 
mittens. " Your manners require not the artificial 
restraint of society. You are radically polite ; this 
impetuosity and ferociousness is simply the sin- 
cerity which is the basis of a proper deportment. 
Your instincts are moral: your better nature, I 



118 MISS MIX. 

see, is religious. As St. Paul justly remarks — 
see chap. 6, 8, 9, and 10 — " 

He seized a heavy candlestick, and threw it at 
me. I dodged it submissively but firmly. 

"Excuse me," he remarked, as his under jaw 
slowly relaxed. " Excuse me, Miss Mix — but I 
can't stand St. Paul! Enough — you are en- 
gaged." 



CHAPTER IV. 

I FOLLOWED the housekeeper as she led the way 
timidly to my room. As we passed into a dark 
hall in the wing, I noticed that it was closed by 
an iron gate with a grating. Three of the doors 
on the corridor were likewise grated. A strange 
noise, as of shuffling feet and the howling of in- 
furiated animals, rang through the hall. Bidding 
the housekeeper good night, and taking the candle, 
I entered my bedchamber. 

I took off my dress, and, putting on a yellow 
flannel nightgown, which I could not help feeling 
did not agree with m}^ complexion, I composed 



MISS MIX. 119 

myself to rest by reading Blair s Bhetoric and 
Palcijs Moral Philosoi^hy. I had just put out the 
light, when I heard voices in the corridor. I lis- 
tened attentively. I recognized Mr. Eawj ester's 
stern tones. 

" Have you fed No. 1 ? " he asked. 

" Yes, sir," said a gruff voice, apparently belong- 
ing to a domestic. 

" How 's No. 2 ? " 

" She 's a little off her feed, just now, but will 
pick up in a day or two ! " 

"And No. 3?" 

" Perfectly furious, sir. Her tantrums are un- 
governable." 

"Hush!" 

The voices died away, and I sank into a fitful 
slumber. 

I dreamed that I was wandering through a trop- 
ical forest. Suddenly I saw the figure of a gorilla 
approaching me. As it neared me, I recognized 
the features of Mr. Eawjester. He held his hand 
to his side as if in pain. I saw that he had been 
wounded. He recognized me and called me by 
name, but at the same moment the vision chanoed 



120 MISS MIX. 

to an Ashantee village, where, around the fire, a 
group of negroes were dancing and participating 
in some wild Ohi festival. I awoke with the 
strain still ringing in my ears. 

" Hokee-pokee wokee fum ! " 

Good Heavens ! could I be dreaming ? I heard 
the voice distinctly on the floor below, and smelt 
sometliing burning. I arose, with an indistinct 
presentiment of evil, and hastily putting some 
cotton in my ears and tying a towel about my 
head, I wrapped myself in a shawl and rushed 
down stairs.. The door of Mr. Eawj ester's room 
was open. I entered. 

Mr. Eawj ester lay apparently in a deep slumber, 
from which even the clouds of smoke that came 
from the burning curtains of his bed could not 
rouse him. Around the room a large and power- 
ful negress, scantily attired, with her head adorned 
with feathers, was dancing wildly, accompanying 
herself with bone castanets. It looked like some 
terrible fetich. 

I did not lose my calmness. After firmly empty- 
ing the pitcher, basin, and slop-jar on the burning 
bed, I proceeded cautiously to the garden, and, 



MISS MIX. 121 

returning with the garden-engine, I directed a 
small stream at Mr. Eawj ester. 

At my entrance the gigantic negress fled. Mr. 
Eawj ester yawned and woke. I explained to him, 
as he rose dripping from the bed, the reason of my 
presence. He did not seem to be excited, alarmed, 
or discomposed. He gazed at me curiously. 

" So you risked your life to save mine, eh ? you 
canary-colored teacher of infants," 

I blushed modestly, and drew my sliawl tightly 
over my yellow flannel nightgown. 

" You love me, Mary Jane, — don't deny it ! 
Tliis trembling shows it I " He drew me closely 
toward him, and said, with his deep voice tenderly 
modulated : — 

" How 's her pooty tootens, — did she get her 
'ittle tootens wet, — bess her ? " 

I understood his allusion to my feet. I glanced 
down and saw that in my hurry I had put on a 
pair of his old india-rubbers. My feet were not 
small or pretty, and the addition did not add to 
their beauty. 

" Let me go, sir," I remarked quietly. " This is 
entirely improper ; it sets a bad example for your 

6 



122 MISS MIX. 

child." And I firmly but gently extricated myself 
from his grasp. I approached the door. He 
*seemed for a moment buried in deep thought. 

" You say this was a negress ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Humph, No. 1, I suppose ? " 

" Who is Number One, sir ? " 

" My first" he remarked, with a significant and 
sarcastic smile. Then, relapsing into his old man- 
ner, he threw his boots at my head, and bade me 
begone. I withdrew calmly. 



CHAPTER V. 

My pupil was a bright little girl, wdio spoke 
• French with a perfect accent. Her mother had 
been a French ballet-dancer, which probably ac- 
counted for it. Although she was only six years 
old, it was easy to perceive that she had been sev- 
eral times in love. She once said to me : — 

" Miss Mix, did you ever have the granclc pas- 
sion ? Did you ever feel a fluttering here ? " and 
she placed her hand upon her small chest, and 



MISS MIX. 123 

sighed quaintly, "a kind of distaste for honhons 
and caromels, when the world seemed as tasteless 
and hollow as a broken cordial drop." 

" Then yon have felt it, Mna ? " I said quietly. 

" dear, yes. There was Buttons, — that was 
our page, you know, — I loved him dearly, but 
papa sent him away. Then there was Dick, the 
groom, but he laughed at me, and I suffered mis- 
ery ! " and she struck a tragic French attitude. 
" There is to be company here to-morrow," she 
added, rattling on with childish naivete, " and 
papa's sweetheart — Blanche Marabout — is to 
be here. You know they say she is to be my 
mamma." 

AVhat thrill was this shot through me ? But I 
rose calmly, and, administering a slight correction 
to the child, left the apartment. 

Blunderbore House, for the next week, was the 
scene of gayety and merriment. That portion of 
the mansion closed with a grating was walled up, 
and the midnight shrieks no longer troubled me. 

But I felt more keenly the degradation of my 
situation. I was obliged to help Lady Blanche at 
her toilet and help her to look beautiful. For 



124 MISS MIX. 

what ? To captivate him ? — no, no, — but 
why this sudden thrill and faintness ? Did he 
really love her ? I had seen him pinch and swear 
at her. But I reflected that he had thrown a can- 
dlestick at my liead, and my foolish heart was re- 
assured. 

It was a night of festivity, when a sudden mes- 
sage obliged Mr. Eawj ester to leave his guests for 
a few hours. " Make yourselves merry, idiots,'" he 
added, under his breath, as he passed me. The 
door closed and he was gone. 

An half-hour passed. In the midst of the dan- 
cing a shriek was heard, and out of the swaying 
crowd of fainting women and excited men a wild 
figure strode into the room. One glance showed 
it to be a highwayman, heavily armed, holding a 
pistol in each hand. 

" Let no one pass out of this room ! " he said, in 
a voice of thunder. " The house is surrounded and 
you cannot escape. The first one who crosses yon- 
der threshold will be shot like a dog. Gentlemen, 
I '11 trouble you to approach in single file, and hand 
me your purses and w^atches." 

Finding resistance useless, the order was ungra- 
ciously obeyed. 



MISS MIX. iZ^ 

" Now, ladies, please to pass up your jewelry 
and trinkets." 

This order was still more ungraciously complied 
with. As Blanche handed to the bandit captain 
her bracelet, she endeavored to conceal a diamond 
necklace, the gift of Mr. Eawj ester, in her bosom. 
But, with a demoniac grin, the powerful brute tore 
it from its concealment, and, administering a hearty 
box on the ear of the young girl, flung her aside. 

It was now my turn. With a beating heart I 
made my way to the robber chieftain, and sank at 
his feet. " sir, I am nothing but a poor gover- 
ness, ]ii'ay let me go." 

'' lio ! A governess ? Give me your last 
month's wages, then. Give me what you have 
stolen from your master ! " and he laughed fiend- 
ishly. 

I gazed at him quietly, and said, in a low voice : 
".1 have stolen nothing from you, Mr. Piawjester !" 

" Ah, discovered ! Hush ! listen, girl ! " he hissed, 
in a fiercer whisper, " utter a syllable to frustrate 
my plans and you die ; aid me, and — " But he 
was gone. 

In a few moments the party, with the exception 



126 MISS MIX. 

of myself, were gagged and locked in the cellar. 
The next moment torches were applied to the rich 
hangings, and the house was in flames. I felt a 
strong hand seize me, and bear me out in the open 
air and place me upon the hillside, where I could 
overlook the burning mansion. It was Mr. Kaw- 
• jester. 

" Burn ! " he said, as he shook his fist at the 
flames. Then sinking on his knees before me, he 
said hurriedly : — 

" Mary Jane, I love you ; the obstacles to our 
union are or will be soon removed. In yonder 
mansion were confined my three crazy ^wives. 
One of them, as you know, attempted to kill 
me ! Ha ! this is vengeance ! But will you be 
mine ? " 

I fell, without a word, upon his neck. 



GUY HEAVYSTONE; 

OR, 

"ENTIRE." 

A MUSCULAR NOVEL. 
BY THE AUTHOR OF '' SWORD AND GUN." 



CHAPTER I. 

" Nerei repandirostrum incurvicervicum pecus." 

A DINGY, swasliy, splashy afternoon in October ; 
a school-yard filled with a mob of riotous boys. A 
lot of us standing outside. 

Suddenly came a dull, crashing sound from the 
school-room. At the ominous interruption I shud- 
dered involuntarily, and called to Smithsye: — 

" AVhat 's up, Smithums ? " 

"Guy 's cleaning out the fourth form," he 

replied. 

At the same moment George de Coverly passed 
me holdincr his nose, from whence the bright Nor- 



128 GUY HEAVYSTONE. 

man blood streamed redly. To liim the plebeian 
Smithsye* laughingly : — 

" Cully ! how 's his nibs ? " 

I pushed . the door of the school-room open. 
There are some spectacles which a man never 
forgets. The burning of Troy probably seemed 
a large-sized conflagration to the pious ^neas, 
and made an impression on him which he carried 
away with the feeble Anchises. 

In the centre of the room, lightly brandishing 
the piston-rod of a steam-engine, stood Guy Heavy- 
stone alone. I say alone, for the pile of small boys 
on the floor in the corner could hardly be called 
company. 

I will try and sketch him for the reader. Guy 
Heavystone was then only fifteen. His broad, 
deep chest, his sinewy and quivering flank, his 
straight pastern, showed him to be a thorough- 
bred. Perhaps he was a trifle heavy in the fet- 
lock, but lie held his head haughtily erect. His 
eyes were glittering but pitiless. There was a 
sternness about the lower part of his face, — the 
old Heavystone look, — a sternness, heightened, 
perhaps, by the snatlle-bit which, in one of his 



GUY HEAVYSTONE. 129 

strange freaks, he wore in his mouth to curb his 
occasional ferocity. His dress was well adapted 
to his square-set and herculean frame. A striped 
knit undershirt, close-fitting striped tights, and a 
few spangles set off his figure ; a neat Glengarry 
cap adorned his head. On it was displayed the 
Heavystone crest, a cock regardant on a dunghill 
or, and the motto, " Devil a better ! " . 

I thought of Horatius on the bridge, of Hector 
before the walls. I always make it a point to 
think of something classical at such times. 

He saw me, and his sternness partly relaxed. 
Something like a smile struggled through his grim 
lineaments. It ^^as like looking on the Jungfrau 
after having seen Mont Blanc, • — a trifle, only a 
trifle less sublime and awful. Eesting his hand 
lightly on the shoulder of the head-master, who 
shuddered and collapsed under his touch, he strode 
toward me. 

His walk was peculiar. You could not call it a 
stride. It was like the " crest-tossing Bellero- 
phon," — a kind of prancing gait. Guy Heavy- 
stone pranced toward me. 

6 *- 'I 



130 GUY HEAVYSTONE. 



CHAPTER II. 

"Lord Lovel he stood at the garden gate, 
A-combing his milk-white steed." 

It was tlie winter of 186- when I next met 
Guy Heavystone. He had left the University and 
had entered the 76th " Heavies." " I have ex- 
changed the gown for the sword, you see," he said, 
grasping my hand, and fracturing the bones of my 
little finger, as he shook it. 

I gazed at him with unmixed admiration. He 
was squarer, sterner, and in every way smarter 
and more remarkable than ever. I began to feel 
toward this man as Phalaster felt towards Phyr- 
gino, as somebody must have felt toward Archidi- 
dasculus, as Boswell felt toward Johnson. 

" Come into my den," he said, and lifting me 
gently by the seat of my pantaloons he carried me 
up stairs and deposited me, before I could apolo- 
gize, on the sofa. I looked around the room. It 
was a bachelor's apartment, characteristically fur- 
nished in the taste of the proprietor. A few clay- 



GUY HEAVYSTONE. 131 

mores and battle-axes were ranged against the 
wall, and a culverin, captured by Sir Ealpli Heavy- 
stone, occupied the corner, the other end of the 
room being taken up by a light battery. Foils, 
boxing-gloves, saddles, and fishing-poles lay around 
carelessly. A small pile of billets-doux lay upon a 
silver salver. The man was not an anchorite, nor 
yet a Sir Galahad. 

I never could tell what Guy thought of women. 
" Poor little beasts," he would often say when the 
conversation turned on any of his fresh conquests. 
Then, passing his hand over his marble brow, the 
old look of stern fixedness of purpose and unflinch- 
ing severity would straighten the lines of his 
mouth, and he would mutter, half to himself, 
" S'death ! " 

" Come with me to Heavystone Grange. The 
Exmoor Hounds throw off to-morrow. I '11 give 
you a mount," he said, as he amused himself by 
rolling up a silver candlestick between his fingers. 
" You shall have Cleopatra. But stay," he added, 
thoughtfully ; " now T remember, I ordered Cleo- 
patra to be shot this morning." 

" And why ? " I queried. 



132 GUY HEAVYSTONE. 

" She threw her rider yesterday and fell on 
him — " 

"And killed him?" 

" No. That 's the reason why I have ordered 
her to be sliot. I keej) no animals that are not 
dangerous — I should add — deadly ! " He hissed 
the last sentence between his teeth, and a gloomy 
frown descended over his calm brow. 

I affected to turn over the tradesman's bills that 
lay on the table, for, like all of the Heavystone race, 
Guy seldom paid -cash, and said : — 

" You remind me of the time when Leonidas — " 

" 0, bother Leonidas and your classical allusions. 
Come ! " 

We descended to dinner. 



CHAPTER III. 

"He carries weight, he rides a race, 
'T is for a thousand pound." 

"There is Flora Billingsgate, the greatest co- 
quette and hardest rider in the country," said my 
companion, Ealph Mortmain, as we stood upon 
Dingleby Common before the meet. 



GUY HEAVYSTONE. 133 

I looked up and beheld (^y Heavystone bend- 
ing haughtily over the saddle, as he addressed a 
beautiful brunette. She was indeed a splendidly 
groomed and high-spirited woman. We were near 
enough to overhear the following conversation, 
which any high-toned reader will recognize as the 
common and natural expression of the higher 
classes. 

" When Diana takes the field the chase is not 
wholly confined to objects ferce natural' said Guy, 
darting a significant glance at his companion. 
Flora did not shrink either from the glance or the 
meaning implied in the sarcasm. 

" If I were looking for an Endymion, now — " 
she said archly, as she playfully cantered over a 
few hounds and leaped a five-barred gate. 

Guy whispered a few words, inaudible to the rest 
of the party, and, curvetting slightly, cleverly 
cleared two of the huntsmen in a flying leap, gal- 
loped up the front steps of the mansion, and dash- 
ing at full speed through the hall leaped through 
the drawing-room window and rejoined me, lan- 
guidly, on the lawn. 

" Be careful of Flora Billinojs^ate," he said to me, 



134 GUY HEAVYSTONE. 

in low stern tones, %liile his pitiless eye sliot a 
baleful fire. " Gardez vous I " 

" Gnotlhi scauton!' I replied calmly, not wishing 
to appear to be behind him in perception or verbal 
felicity. 

Guy started off in high spirits. He was well 
carried. He and the first whip, a ten-stone man, 
were head and head at the last fence, while the 
hounds were rolling over their fox a hundred 
yards farther in the open. 

But an unexpected circumstance occurred. Com- 
ing back, his chestnut mare refused a ten-foot wall. 
She reared and fell backward. Again he led her 
up to it lightly ; again she refused, falling heavily 
from the coping. Guy started to his feet. The 
old pitiless fire shone in his eyes ; the old stern 
look settled around his mouth. Seizin^- the mare 
by the tail and mane he threw her over the wall. 
She landed twenty feet on the other side, erect 
and trembling. Lightly leaping the same obstacle 
himself, he remounted her. She did not refuse 
the wall the next time. 



GUY HEAVYSTONE. 135 



CHAPTER IV. 

*' He holds him by his glittering eye." 

Guy was in the North of Ireland, cock-shooting. 
So Ealph Mortmain told me, and also that the 
match between Mary Brandagee and Guy liad been 
broken off by Flora Billino^sgate. " I don't like 
those Billingsgates/' said Ealph, " they 're a bad 
stock. Her father, Smithfield de Billingsgate, had 
an unpleasant w^ay of turning up the knave from 
the bottom of the pack. But nous verrons ; let 
us go and see Guy." 

The next morning we started for Fin-ma-Coul's 
Crossing. When I reached the shooting-box, 
where Guy w^as entertaining a select company of 
friends. Flora Billingsgate greeted me with a saucy 
smile. 

Guy was even squarer and sterner than ever. 
His gusts of passion were more frequent, and it 
was with difficulty that he could keep an able- 
bodied servant in his family. His present retain- 
ers were more or less maimed from exposure to the 



136 GUY HEAVYSTONE. 

fury of their master. There was a strange cyn- 
icism, a cutting sarcasm in his address, piercing 
through his polished manner. I thought of Ti- 
mon, etc., etc. 

One evenino", we were sitting over our Chamber- 
tin, after a hard day's work, and Guy was listlessly 
turning over some letters, Avhen suddenly he ut- 
tered a cry. Did you ever hear the trumpeting of 
a w^ounded elephant ?^ It was like tliat. 

I looked at him w^ith consternation. He was 
glancing at a letter which he held at arm's length, 
and snorting, as it were, at it as he gazed. The 
lower part of his face was stern, but not as rigid 
as usual. He was slowly grinding between his 
teeth the fragments of the glass he had just been 
drinking from. Suddenly he seized one of his 
servants, and, forcing the wretch upon his knees, 
exclaimed, with the roar of a tiger : — 

" Dog ! why was this kept from me ? " 

" Why, please, sir, Miss Flora said as how it was 
a reconciliation from Miss Brandagee, and it was 
to be kept from you where you would not be likely 
to see it, — and — and — " 

" Speak, dog ! and you — " 



GUY HEAVYSTONE. 137 

" I put it among your bills, sir ! " 

With a groan, like distant thunder, Guy fell 
swooning to the floor. 

He soon recovered, for the next moment a ser- 
vant came rushing into the room with the informa- 
tion that a number of the ingenuous peasantry 
of the neighborhood were about to indulge that 
evening in the national pastime of burning a 
farm-house and shooting a landlord. Guy smiled 
a fearful smile, without, however, altering his stern 
and pitiless expression. 

" Let them come," he said calmly ; " I feel like 
entertaining company." 

We barricaded the doors and windows, and then 
chose our arms from tlie armory. Guy's choice 
Avas a singular one : it was a landing net with a 
long handle, and a sharp cavalry sabre. 

We were not destined to remain long in igno- 
rance of its use. A howl was heard from without, 
and a party of fifty or sixty armed men precipi- 
tated themselves against the door. 

Suddenly the window opened. With the rapid- 
ity of lightning, Guy Heavystone cast the net over 
the head of the ringleader, ejaculated '' Ilahet ! " 



138 GUY HEAVYSTONE. 

and with a back stroke of liis cavalry sabre sev- 
ered the member from its trunk, and, drawing the 
net back again, cast the gory head upon the floor, 
saying quietly : — 

« One." 

Again the net was cast, the steel flashed, the net 
was withdrawn, and an ominous " Two ! " accom- 
panied the head as it rolled on the floor. 

" Do you remember wdiat Pliny says of the 
gladiator ? " said Guy, calmly wiping his sabre. 
" How graphic is that passage commencing ' Inter 
nos, etc' " The sport continued until the heads of 
twenty desperadoes had been gathered in. The 
rest seemed inclined to disperse. Guy incautious- 
ly showed himself at the door ; a ringing shot was 
heard, and he staggered back, pierced through the 
heart. Grasping the door-post in the last uncon- 
scious throes of his mighty frame, the whole side 
of the house yielded to that earthquake tremor, 
and we had barely time to escape before the whole 
building fell in ruins. I thought of Samson, the 
Giant Judge, etc., etc. ; but all was over. 

Guy Heavystone had died as he had lived, — 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

A NAVAL OFFICER. 
By captain M-RRY— T, R. N. 



CHAPTER I. 

My father was a north-country surgeon. He 
had retired, a widower, from her Majesty's navy 
many years before, and had a small practice in his 
native village. When I was seven years old he 
employed me to carry medicines to his patients. 
Being of a lively disposition, I sometimes amused 
myself, during my daily rounds, by mixing the 
contents of the different phials. Although I had 
no reason to doubt that the general result of this 
practice was beneficial, yet, as the death of a con- 
sumptive curate followed the addition of a strong 
mercurial lotion to his expectorant, my father con- 
cluded to withdraw me from the profession and 
send m€ to school. 

Grubbins, the schoolmaster, was a tyrant, and it 



140 ME. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

was not long before my impetuous and self-willed 
nature rebelled against his authority. I soon be- 
gan to form plans of revenge. In this I was as- 
sisted by Tom Snaffle, — a schoolfellow. One day 
Tom suo'crested : — 

" Suppose we blow him up. I Ve got two 
pounds of powder ! " 

" No, that 's too noisy/' I replied. 

Tom was silent for a minute, and again spoke : — 

" You remember how you flattened out the 
curate, Pills I Could n't you give Grubbins some- 
thing — something to make him leathery sick — 
eh ? " 

A flash of inspiration crossed my mind. I went 
to the shop of the village apothecary. He knew 
me ; I had often purchased vitriol, which I poured 
into Grubbins's inkstand to corrode his pens and 
burn up his coat-tail, on which he was in the 
habit of wiping them. I boldly asked for an 
ounce of chloroform. The young apothecary 
winked and handed me the bottle. 

It was Grubbins's custom to throw his handker- 
chief over his head, recline in his chair and take 
a short nap during recess. Watching my oppor- 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 141 

tunity, as he dozed, I managed to slip his hand- 
kerchief from his face and substitute my own, 
moistened with chloroform. In a few minutes he 
was insensible. Tom and I then quickly shaved 
his head, beard, and eyebrows, blackened his face 
with a mixture of vitriol and burnt cork, and 
fled. There was a row and scandal the next day. 
My father always excused me by asserting that 
Grubbins had got drunk, — but somehow found it 
convenient to procure me an appointment in her 
Majesty's navy at an early day. 



CHAPTER II. 

An official letter, with the Admiralty seal, in- 
formed me that I was expected to join H. M. ship 
Belcher, Captain Boltrope, at Portsmouth, without 
delay. In a few days I presented myself to a tall, 
stern-visaged man, who was slowly pacing the lee- 
ward side of the quarter-deck. As I touched my 
hat he eyed me sternly : — 

" So ho ! Another young suckling. The service 
is going to the devil. Nothing but babes in the 



142 MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

cockpit and grannies in the board.- Boatswain's 
mate, pass the word for Mr. Cheek ! " 

Mr. Cheek, the steward, appeared and touched 
his hat. "Introduce Mr. Breezy to the young- 
gentlemen. Stop ! Where 's Mr. Swizzle ? " 

" At the masthead, sir." 

"Where's Mr. Lankey?" 

" At the masthead, sir." 

"Mr. Briggs?" 

" Masthead, too, sir." 

" And the rest of the young gentlemen ? " roared 
the enraged officer. 

" All masthead, sir." 

" Ah ! " said Captain Boltrope, as he smiled 
grimly, "under the circumstances, Mr. Breezy, 
you had better go to the masthead too." 



CHAPTER III. 

At the masthead I made the acquaintance of 
two youngsters of about my own age, one of whom 
informed me that he had been there three hun- 
dred and thirty-two days out of the year. 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 143 

" In rough weather, when the old cock is out of 
sorts, you know, we never come clown," added a 
young gentleman of nine years, with a dirk nearly 
as long as himself, who had been introduced to me 
as Mr. Briggs. " By the way, Pills," he continued, 
" how did you come to omit giving the captain a 
naval salute ? " 

" Why, I touched my hat," I said, innocently. 

" Yes, but that is n't enough, you know. That 
will do very well at other times. He expects 
the naval salute when you first come on board — 
greeny ! " , 

I began to feel alarmed, and begged him to 
explain. 

"Why, you see, after touching your hat, you 
should have touched him lightly with your fore- 
finger in his waistcoat, so, and asked, ' How 's his 
nibs ? ' — you see ? " 

" How 's his nibs ? " I repeated. 

" Exactly. He would have drawn back a little, 
and then you should have repeated the salute 
remarking, ' How 's his royal nibs ? ' asking 
cautiously after his wife and family, and request- 
ing to \)Q introduced to the gunner's daughter." 



144 MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

" The gunner's daughter ? " 

" The same ; you know she takes care of us 
young gentlemen ; now don't forget, Pillsy ! " 

When we were called down to the deck I 
thought it a good chance to profit by this instruc- 
tion. I approached Captain Boltrope and repeated 
the salute without conscientiously omitting a single 
detail. He remained for a moment, livid and 
speechless. At length he gasped out : — 

" Boatswain's mate ? " 

" If you please, sir," I asked, tremulously, " I 
should like to be introduced to the gunner's 
daughter ! " 

" 0, very good, sir ! " screamed Captain Boltrope, 
rubbing his hands and absolutely capering about 
the deck with rage. " d — n you ! Of course 
you shall ! ho ! the gunner's daughter ! 0, 
h — 11 ! this is too lYiucIi ! Boatswain's mate ! " 
Before I well knew wiiere I was, I was seized, 
borne to an eight-pounder, tied upon it and 
flogged ! 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 145 



CHAPTER IV. 

As we sat together in the cockpit, picking the 
weevils out of our biscuit, Briggs consoled me for 
my late mishap, adding that the " naval salute," as 
a custom, seemed just then to be honored more in 
the breach than the observance. I joined in the 
hilarity occasioned by the witticism, and in a few 
moments we were all friends. Presently Swizzle 
turned to me : — 

" We have been just planning how to confiscate 
a keg of claret, whicli Nips, the purser, keeps un- 
der his bunk. The old nipcheese lies there drunk 
half the day, and there 's no getting at it." 

" Let 's QQt beneath the state-room and bore 
through the deck, and so tap it," said Lankey. 

The proposition was received with a shout of. 
applause. A long half-inch auger and bit was 
procured from Chips, the carpenter's mate, and 
Swizzle, after a careful examination of the timbers 
beneath the ward-room, commenced operations. 
The auger at last disappeared, wlien suddenly 
7 J 



146 MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

there was a slight disturbance on the deck above. 
Swizzle withdrew the auger hurriedly ; from its 
point a few bright red drops trickled. 

" Huzza ! send her up again ! " cried Lankey. 

The auger was again applied. This time a 
shriek was heard from the purser's cabin. In- 
stantly the light was doused, and the party 
retreated hurriedly to the cockpit. A sound of 
snoring was heard as the sentry stuck his head 
into the door. " All right, sir," he replied in 
answer to the voice of the officer of the deck. 

The next morning we heard that Xips Avas in 
the surgeon's hands, with a bad wound in the 
fleshy part of his leg, and ' that the auger had 
not struck claret. 



CHAPTER V. 

" Now, Pills, you '11 have a chance to smell 
powder," said Briggs as he entered the cockpit 
and buckled around his waist an enormous cut- 
lass. " We have just sighted a French ship." 

We went on deck. Captain Boltrope grinned 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 147 

as we toiiclied our liats. He hated the purser. 
" Come, young gentlemen, if you 're boring for 
French claret, yonder 's a good quality. Mind 
your con, sir," he added, turning to the quarter- 
master, who was grinning. 

The ship was already cleared for action. The 
men, in their eagerness, had started the coffee 
from the tubs and filled them with shot. Pres- 
ently the Frenchman yawed, and a shot from a 
long thirty-two came skipping over the water. 
It killed the quartermaster and took off' both of 
Lankey's legs. "Tell the purser our account is 
squared," said the dying boy, with a feeble 
smile. 

The fight raged fiercely for two hours. I 
remember killing the French Admiral, as we 
boarded, but on looking around for Briggs, after 
the smoke liad cleared away, I was intensely 
amused at witnessing the following novel sight : — ■ 

Briggs had pinned the French captain against 
the mast with his cutlass, and was now engaged, 
with all the hilarity of youth, in pulling the cap- 
tain's coat-tails between his legs, in imitation of a 
dancing-jack. As the Frenchman lifted his legs 



148 MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

and arms, at each jerk of Briggs's, I could not help 
participating in the general mirth. 

'' You young devil, what are you doing ? " said 
a stifled voice behind niQ. I looked up and beheld 
Captain Boltrope, endeavoring to calm his stern 
features, but the twitching around his mouth 
betrayed his intense enjoyment of the scene. 
*' Go to the masthead — up with you, sir ! " he 
repeated sternly to Briggs. 

" A^ery good, sir," said the boy, coolly preparing 
to mount the shrouds. " Good by, Johnny Cra- 
paud. Humph ! " he added, in a tone intended 
for my ear, " a pretty way to treat a hero. The 
service is going to the devil I " 

I thought so too. 



CHAPTER VI. 

We were ordered to the West Indies. Al- 
though Captain Boltrope's manner toward me 
was still severe, and even harsh, I understood 
that my name had been favorably mentioned in 
the despatches. 

Eeader, were you ever at Jamaica ? If so, you 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 149 

remember the negresses, the oranges, Port Eoyal 
Tom — the yellow fever. After bemg two weeks 
at the station, I was taken sick of the fever. In a 
month I was delirious. During my paroxysms, 
I had a wild distempered dream of a stern face 
bending anxiously over my pillow, a rough hand 
smoothing my hair, and a kind voice saying: — 

" Bess his 'ittle heart ! Did he have the naugh- 
ty fever ? " This face seemed again changed to 
the well-known stern features of Captain Boltrope. 

When I was convalescent, a packet edged in 
black was put in my hand. It contained the 
news of my father's death, and a sealed letter 
which he had requested to be given to me on 
his decease. I opened it tremblingly. It read 
thus : — 

" My dear Boy : — I regret to inform you that in all prob- 
ability you are not my son. Your mother, I am grieved to 
say, was a highly improper person. AVho your father may 
be, I really cannot say, but perhaps the Honorable Henry 
Boltrope, Captain R. I^., may be able to inform you. Cir- 
cumstances over which I have no control have deferred 
this important disclosure. 

"Your Stricken Parent." 

And so Captain Boltrope was my father. Heav- 



150 UR. I^UDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

ens ! Was it a dream ? I recalled liis stern man- 
ner, his observant eye, liis ill-concealed uneasiness 
when in my presence. I longed to embrace him.. 
Staggering to my feet, I rushed in my scanty 
apparel to the deck, where Captain Boltrope was 
just then engaged in receiving the Governor's 
wife and daughter. The ladies shrieked ; the 
youngest, a beautiful girl, blushed deeply. Heed- 
ing them not, I sank at his feet, and, embracing 
them, cried : — 

" My father ! " 

" Chuck him overboard 1 " roared Captain Bolt- 
rope. • 

" Stay," pleaded the soft voice of Clara Mait- 
land, the Governor's daughter. 

" Shave his head ! he 's a wretched lunatic ! " 
continued Captain Boltrope, while his voice trem- 
bled with excitement. 

" No, let m3 nurse and take care of him," said 
the lovely girl, blushing as she spoke. " Mamma, 
can't we take him home ? " 

The daughter's pleading was not without effect. 
In the mean time I had fainted. When I recov- 
ered my senses I found myself in Governor Mait- 
land's mansion. 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 151 



CHAPTER VII 



The reader will guess what followed. I fell 
deeply in love with Clara Maitland, to whom I 
confided the secret of my birth. The generous girl 
asserted that she had detected the superiority of 
my manner at once. We plighted our troth, and 
resolved to wait upon events. 

Briggs called to see me a few days afterward. 
He said that the purser had insulted the whole 
tpckpit, and all the midshipmen had called him 
out. But he added thoughtfully : " I don't see how 
we can arrange the duel. You see there are six 
of us to fight him." 

" Very easily," I replied. " Let your fellows all 
stand in a row, and take his fire ; that, you see, 
gives him six chances to one, and he must be a bad 
shot if he can't hit one of you ; while, on the other 
hand, you see, he gets a volley from you six, and 
one of you '11 be certain to fetch him." 

" Exactly " ; and away Briggs went, but soon re- 
turned to say that the purser had declined, — " like 
a d — d coward," he added. 



152 MR. I^yDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 

But tlie news of the sudden and serious illness 
of Captain Boltrope put off the duel. I hastened 
to his bedside, but too late, — an hour previous he 
had given up the ghost. 

I resolved to return to England. I made known 
the secret of my birth, and exhibited my adopted 
father's letter to Lady Maitland, who at once sug- 
gested my marriage with her daughter, before I re- 
turned to claim the property. We w^ere married, 
and took our departure next day. 

I made no delay in posting at once, in company 
with my wife and my friend Briggs, to my native 
village. Judge of my horror and surprise whe* 
my late adopted father came out of his shop to 
welcome me. 

" Then you are not dead I " I gasped. 

" 1^0, my dear boy." 

" And this letter ? " 

My father — as I must still call him — glanced 
on the paper, and pronounced it a forgery. Briggs 
roared w^ith laughter. I turned to him and de- 
manded an explanation. 

" Why, don't you see, Greeny, it 's all a joke, — 
a midshipman's joke ! " 



MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY. 153 

"But — " I asked. 

" Don't be a fool. You 've got a good wife, — 
be satisfied." 

I turned to Clara, and was satisfied. Although 
Mrs. Maitland never forgave me, the jolly old Gov- 
ernor laughed heartily over the joke, and so well 
used his influence that I soon became, dear reader. 
Admiral Breezy, K. C. B. 



JOHN JENKINS; • 

OR, 

THE SMOKER REFORMED. 
By T. S. a— TH-R. 



CHAPTER I. 

" One cigar a day ! " said Judge Boompointer. 

" One cigar a day ! " repeated John Jenkins, as 
with trepidation he dropped his half-consumed 
cigar under his work-bench. 

" One cigar a day is three cents a day/' remarked 
Judge Boompointer, gravely ; " and do you know, 
sir, what one cigar a day, or three cents a day, 
amounts to in the course of four years ? " 

John Jenkins, in his boyhood, had attended the 
village school, and possessed considerable arithmet- 
ical ability. Taking up a shingle which lay upon 
his work-bench, and producing a piece of chalk, 
with a feeling of conscious pride he made an ex- 
haustive calculation. 

" Exactly forty-three dollars and eighty cents," 



JOHN JENKINS. 155 

he replied, wiping the perspiration from his heated 
brow, while his face flushed with honest enthu- 
siasm. 

" Well, sir, if you saved three cents a day, in- 
stead of wasting it, you would now be the pos- 
sessor of a new suit of clothes, an illustrated Fam- 
ily Bible, a pew in the church, a complete set of 
Patent Office Eeports, a hymn-book, and a paid 
subscription to Arthurs Home Magazine, which 
could be purchased for exactly forty-three dollars 
and eighty cents ; and," added the Judge, with 
increasing sternness,- " if you calculate leap-year, 
which you seem to have strangely omitted, you 
have three cents more, sir ; three cents more ! 
What would that buy you, sir ? " 

" A cigar," suggested John Jenkins ; but, color- 
ing again deeply, he hid his face. 

" No, sir," said the Judge, with a sweet smile of 
benevolence stealing over his stern features ; " prop- 
erly invested, it would buy you that which passeth 
all price. Dropped into the missionary-box, Avho 
can tell what heathen, now idly and joyously wan- 
toning in nakedness and sin, might be brought 
to a sense of his miserable condition, and made, 



156 JOHN JENKINS. 

through that three cents, to feel the torments of 
the wicked ? " 

With these words the Judge retired, leaving 
John Jenkins buried in profound thought. " Three 
cents a day," he muttered. " In forty years I might 
be worth four hundred and thirty-eight dollars and 
ten cents, — and then I might marry Mary. Ah, 
Mary ! " The young carpenter sighed, and, drawing 
a twenty-five cent daguerreotype from his vest- 
pocket, gazed long and fervidly upon the features 
of a young girl in book muslin and a coral neck- 
lace. Then, with a resolute expression, he care- 
fully locked the door of his workshop and de- 
parted. 

Alas ! his good resolutions were too late. We 
trifle with the tide of fortune which too often nips 
us in the bud and casts the dark shadow of mis- 
fortune over the bright lexicon of youth ! That 
night the half-consumed fragment of John Jen- 
kins's cigar set fire to his workshop and burned 
it up, together with all his tools and materials. 
There was no insurance. 



JOHN JENKINS. 157 



CHAPTER II 



■THE DOWNWARD PATH. 



" Then you still persist in marrying John Jen- 
kins ? " queried Judge Boompointer, as he play- 
fully, with paternal familiarity, lifted the golden 
curls of the village belle, Mary Jones. 

" I do," replied the fair young girl, in a low 
voice, that resembled rock candy in its saccharine 
firmness, — " I do. He has promised to reform. 
Since he lost all his property by fire — " 

" The result of his pernicious habit, though he 
illogically persists in charging it to me," inter- 
rupted the Judge. 

" Since then," continued the young girl, " he has 
endeavored to break himself of the habit. He 
tells me that he has substituted the stalks of the 
Indian ratan, the outer part of a leguminous plant 
called the smoking-bean, and the fragmentary and 
unconsumed remainder of cigars which occur at 
rare and uncertain intervals along the road, which, 
as he informs me, though deficient in quality and 



158 JOHN JENKINS. 

strength, are comparatively inexpensive." And, 
blushing at her own eloquence, the young girl hid 
her curls on the Judge's arm. 

" Poor thing ! " muttered Judge Boompointer, 
"Dare I tell her all? Yet I must." 

" I shall cling to him," continued the young girl, 
rising with her theme, " as the young vine clings 
to some hoary ruin. Nay, nay, chide, me not, 
Judge Boompointer. I will marry John Jenkins ! " 

The Judge was evidently affected. Seating 
himself at the table, he wrote a few lines hur- 
riedly upon a piece of paper, which he folded and 
placed in the fingers of the destined bride of John 
Jenkins. 

" Mary Jones," said the Judge, with impressive 
earnestness, " take this trifle as a wedding gift from 
one wdio respects your fidelity and truthfulness. 
At the altar let it be a reminder of me." And 
covering his face hastily with a handkerchief, the 
stern and iron-willed man left the room. As the 
door closed, Mary unfolded the paper. It was an 
order on the corner grocery for three yards of 
flannel, a paper of needles, four pounds of soap, 
one pound of starch, and two boxes of matches ! 



JOHN JENKINS. 159 

"Noble and tliouglitful man!" was all Mary 
Jones could exclaim, as she hid her face in her 
hands and burst into a flood of tears. 

***** 
The bells of Cloverdale are ringing merrily. It 
is a wedding. " How beautiful they look ! " is the 
exclamation that passes from lip to lip, as Mary 
Jones, leaning timidly on the arm of John Jen- 
kins, enters the church. But the bride is agitated, 
and the bridegroom betrays a feverish nervousness. 
As they stand in the vestibule, John Jenkins 
fumbles earnestly in his vest-pocket. Can it be 
the ring he is anxious about ? :N"o. He draws a 
small brown substance from his pocket, and biting 
off a piece, hastily replaces the fragment and 
gazes furtively around. Surely no one saw him ? 
Alas I the eyes of two of tliat wedding party saw 
the fatal act. Judge Boompointer shook his head 
sternly. Mary Jones sighed and breathed a silent 
prayer. Her husband chewed ! 



160 JOHN JENKINS. 



CHAPTER III. AND LAST. 

" What ! more bread ? " said Jolm Jenkins, gruff- 
ly. " You 're always asking for money for bread. 
D — nation ! Do you want to ruin me by your ex- 
travagance ? " and as he uttered these words he 
drew from his pocket a bottle of whiskey, a pipe, 
and a paper of tobacco. Emptying the first at a 
draught, he threw the empty bottle at the head of 
his eldest boy, a youth of twelve summers. The 
missile struck the child full in the temple, and 
stretched him a lifeless corpse. Mrs. Jenkins, 
whom the reader will hardly recognize as the once 
gay and beautiful Mary Jones, raised the dead 
body of her son in her arms, and carefully placing 
the unfortunate youth beside the pump in the 
back yard, returned with saddened step to the 
house. At another time, and in brighter days, she 
might have wept at the occurrence. She w^as past 
tears now. 

" Eather, your conduct is reprehensible ! " said 



JOHN JENKINS. IGl 

little Harrison Jenkins, the youngest boy. " Where 
do you expect to go when you die ? " 

" Ah ! " said John Jenkins, fiercely ; " this comes 
of giving children a liberal education ; this is the 
result of Sabbath schools. Down, viper ! " 

A tumbler thrown from the same parental fist 
laid out the youthful Harrison cold. The four 
other children had, in the mean time, gathered 
around the table with anxious expectancy. With 
a chuckle, the now changed and brutal John Jen- 
kins produced four pipes, and, filling them with 
tobacco, handed one to each of his offspring and 
bade them smoke. " It 's better than bread ! " 
laughed the wretch hoarsely. 

Mary Jenkins, though of a patient nature, felt 
it her duty now to speak. " I have borne much, 
John Jenkins," she said. " But I prefer that the 
children should not smoke. It is an unclean habit, 
and soils their clothes. I ask this as a special 
favor ! " 

John Jenkins hesitated, — the pangs of remorse 
began to seize him. 

" Promise me this, John ! " urged Mary upon 
her knees. 



162 JOHN JENKINS. 

" I promise ! " reluctantly answered John. 

"And you wiU put the money in a savings- 
bank ? " 

"I will/' repeated her husband; "and /'U give 
up smoking, too." 

" 'T is well, John Jenkins ! " said Judge Boom- 
pointer, appearing suddenly from behind the door, 
where he had been concealed during this inter- 
view. " Nobly said ! my man. Cheer up ! I_ will 
see that the cliildren are decently buried." The 
husband and wife fell into each other's arms. And 
Judge Boompointer, gazing upon the affecting 
spectacle, burst into tears. 

From that day John Jenkins was an altered 
man. 



NO TITLE. 

By W— LK— E C— LL— NS. 



PROLOGUE. 

The following advertisement appeared in the 
"Times" of the 17th of June, 1845: — 

WANTED. — A few young men for a light genteel employ- 
ment. Address J. W., P. 0. 

In the same paper, of same date, in another 
column : — 

TO LET. — That commodious and elegant family mansion, 
No. 27 Limehouse Road, Pultneyville, will be rented low to 
a respectable tenant if applied for immediately, the family being 
about to remove to the continent. 

Under the local intelligence, in another col- 
umn : — 

Missing. — An unknown elderly gentleman a week ago left 
his lodgings in the Kent Road, since which nothing has been 
heard of him. He left no trace of his identity except a port- 
manteau containing a couple of shirts marked "209, Waed." 

To find the connection between the mysterious 
disappearance of the elderly gentleman and the 
anonymous communication, the relevancy of both 



164 NO TITLE. 

these incidents to the letting of a commodious 
family mansion, and the dead secret involved in 
the three occurrences, is the task of the writer 
of this history. 

A slim young man with spectacles, a large hat, 
drab gaiters, and a note-book, sat late that night 
with a copy of the " Times " before him, and a 
pencil which he- rattled nervously between his 
teeth in the coffee-room of the " Blue Dragon." 



CHAPTER I. 

MARY JONES's NARRATIVE. 

I AM upper housemaid to the family that live 
at No. 27 Limehouse Eoad, Pultneyville. I have 
been requested by Mr. Wilkey CoUings, which I 
takes the liberty of here stating is a gentleman 
born and bred, and has some consideration for the 
feelings of servants, and is not above rewarding 
thepi for their trouble, which is more than you 
can say for some who ask questions and gets short 
answers enough, gracious knows, to tell what I 
know about them. I have been requested to tell 



NO TITLE. 105 

my story in my own langwidge, tliougli, being no 
schollard, mind cannot conceive. I think my 
master is a brute. Do not know that he has ever 
attempted to poison my missus, — which is too 
good for him, and how she ever came to marry 
him, heart only can tell, — but believe him to be 
capable of any such hatrosity. Have heard him 
swear dreadful because of not having his shaving- 
water at nine o'clock precisely. Do not know 
whether he ever forged a will or tried to get my 
missus' property, although, not having confidence 
in the man, should not be surprised if he had done 
so. Believe that there was always something mys- 
terious in his conduct. Eemember distinctly how 
the family left home to go abroad. Was putting 
up my back hair, last Saturday morning, when I 
heard a ring. Says cook, " That 's missus' bell, and 
mind you hurry or the master 'ill know why." 
Says I, " Humbly thanking you, mem, but taking 
advice of them as is competent to give it, I '11 take 
my time." Found missus dressing herself and 
master growling as usual. Says missus, quite 
calm and easy like, " Mary, we begin to pack 
to-day." " What for, mem ? " says T, taken aback. 



166 NO TITLE. ^ 



" AVliat 's that hussy asking ? " says master from 
the bedclothes quite savage like. " For the Con- 
tineut — Italy," says missus — " Can you go Mary ? " 
Her voice was quite gentle and saintlike, but I 
knew the struggle it cost, and says I, " With yoit 
mem, to India's torrid clime, if required, but with 
African Gorillas," says I, looking toward the bed, 
" never." " Leave the room," says master, starting 
up and catching of his bootjack. " Why Charles ! " 
says missus, " how you talk ! " affecting surprise. 
" Do go Mary," says she, slipping a half-crown into 
my hand. I left the room scorning to take notice 
of the odious wretch's conduct. 

Cannot say whether my master and missus were 
ever legally married. What Avith the dreadful 
state of morals nowadays and them stories in 
the circulating libraries, innocent girls don't know 
into what society they might be obliged to take 
situations. Never saw missus' marriage certificate, 
though I have quite accidental-like looked in her 
desk when open, and would have seen it. Do not 
know of any lovers missus might have had. Be- 
lieve she had a liking for John Thomas, footman, 
for she was always spiteful-like — poor lady — 



•' NO TITLE. 167 

when we were together — thoiigli there was noth- 
ing between \\s, as. Cook well knows, and dare not 
deny, and missns need n't have been jealous. 
Have never seen arsenic or Prussian acid in any 
of the private drawers — but have seen paregoric 
and camphor. One of my master's friends was a 
Count Moscow, a Eussian papist — which I de- 
tested. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE SLIM YOUNG MAn's STORY. 

I AM by profession a reporter, and writer for the 
press. I live at Pultneyville. I have always had 
a passion for the marvellous, and have been dis- 
tinguished for my facility in tracing out mysteries, 
and solving enigmatical occurrences. On the night 
of the 17th June, 1845, 1 left my office and walked 
homeward. The night was bright and starlight. I 
was revolving in my mind the words of a singular 
item I had just read in the "Times." I had reached 
the darkest portion of the road, and found myself 
mechanically repeating : " An elderly gentleman a 



168 NO TITLE. 

week ago left liis lodgings on the Kent Road," 
when suddenly I heard a step behind me. 

I turned quickly, with an exj^ression of horror 
in my face, and by the light of the newly risen 
moon beheld an elderly gentleman, with green cot- 
ton umbrella, approaching me. His hair, which 
was snow white, was parted ovej? a broad, open 
forehead. The expression of his face, which was 
slightly flushed, was that of amiability verging 
almost upon imbecility. There was a strange, in- 
quiring look about the widely opened mild blue 
eye, — a look that might have been intensified to 
insanity, or modified to idiocy. As he passed me, 
he paused and partly turned his face, with a ges- 
ture of inquiry. I see him still, his white locks 
blowing in the evening breeze, his hat a little on 
the back of his head, and his figure painted in re- 
lief against the dark blue sky. 

Suddenly he turned his mild eye full upon me. 
A weak smile played about his thin lips. In a 
voice which had something of the tremulousness 
of age and the self-satisfied chuckle of imbecility 
in it, he asked, pointing to the rising moon, " Why ? 
— Hush ! " 



NO TITLE. 169 

He had dodged behind me, and appeared to be 
loolcing anxiously down the road. I could feel his 
aged frame shaking with terror as he laid his thin 
hands upon my shoulders and faced me in the 
direction of the supposed danger. 

" Hush ! did you not hear them coming ? " 

I listened ; there was no sound but the sough- 
ing of the roadside trees in the evening wind. I 
endeavored to reassure him, with such success that 
in a few moments the old weak smile appeared on 
his benevolent face. 

" Why ? — " But the look of interrogation was 
succeeded by a hopeless blankness. 

" Why ! " I repeated with assuring accents. 

" Why," he said, a gleam of intelligence flicker- 
ing over his face, " is yonder moon, as she sails in 
the blue empyrean, casting a flood of light o'er 
hill and dale, like — Why," he repeated, with a 
feeble smile, " is yonder moon, as she sails in the 
blue empyrean — " He hesitated, — stammered, 
— and gazed at me hopelessly, with the tears drip- 
ping from his moist and widely opened eyes. 

I took his hand kindly in my own. " Casting a 



170 NO TITLE. 

shadow o'er hill and dale/' I repeated quietly, lead- 
ing him up the subject, "like — Come, now." 

" Ah ! " he said, pressing my hand tremulously, 
" you know it ? " 

"I do. Why is it like — the — eh — the com- 
modious mansion on the Limehouse Eoad ? " 

A blank stare only followed. He shook his head 
sadly. " Like the young men wanted for a light, 
genteel employment ? " 

He wagged his feeble old head cunningly. 

" Or, Mr. Ward," I said, with bold confidence, 
" like the mysterious disappearance from the Kent 
Eoad ? " 

The moment was full of suspense. He did not 
seem to hear me. Suddenly he turned. 

"Ha!" 

I darted forward. But he had vanished in the 
darkness. 



NO TITLE. 171 



CHAPTER III. 

NO. 27 LIMEHOUSE ROAD. 

It was a hot midsummer evening. Limeliouse 
Eoad was deserted save by dust and a few rattling 
butchers' carts, and the bell of the muffin and 
crumpet man. A commodious mansion, which 
stood on the right of the road as you enter Pult- 
neyville, surrounded by stately poplars and a high 
fence surmounted by a chcvmix de /rise of broken 
glass, looked to the passing and footsore pedestrian 
like the genius of seclusion and solitude. A bill 
announcing in the usual terms that the house was 
to let, hung from the bell at the servants' entrance. 

As the shades of evening closed, and the long 
shadows of the poplars stretched across the road, 
a man carrying a small kettle stopped and gazed, 
first at the bill and then at the house. When he 
had reached the corner of the fence, he again 
stopped and looked cautiously up and down the 
road. Apparently satisfied with the result of his 
scrutiny, he deliberately sat himself down in the 



172 NO TITLE. 

dark shadow of the fence, and at once busied him- 
self in some employment, so well concealed as to 
be invisible to the gaze of passers-by. At the end 
of an hour he retired cautiously. 

But not altogether unseen. A slim young man, 
with spectacles and note-book, stepped from be- 
hind a tree as the retreating figure of the intruder 
was lost in the twilight, and transferred from the 
fence to his note-book the freshly stencilled in- 
scription, « S — T — 1860 — X." 



CHAPTER IV. . 

COUNT Moscow's NARRATIVE. 

I AM a foreigner. Observe ! To be a foreigner 
in England is to be mysterious, suspicious, intrigu- 
ing. M. Collins has requested the liistory of my 
complicity with certain occurrences. It is noth- 
ing, bah! absolutely nothing. 

I write with ease and fluency. Why should I 
not write ? Tra la la ! I am what you English 
call corpulent. Ha, ha ! I am a pupil of Macchia- 
velli. I find it much better to disbelieve every- 



NO TITLE. 173 

thing, and to approach my subject and wishes 
circuitously, than in a direct manner. You have 
observed that playful animal, the cat. Call it, 
and it does not come to you directly, but rubs 
itself against all the furniture in the room, and 
reaches you finally — and scratches. Ah, ha, 
scratches ! I am of the feline species. People 
call •me a villain — bah ! 

I know the family, living 'No. 27 Limehouse 
Eoad. I respect the gentleman, — a fine, burly 
specimen of your Englishman, — and madame, 
charming, ravishing, delightful. When it became 
known to me that they designed to let their 
delightful residence, and visit foreign shores, I 
at once called upon them. I kissed the hand 
of madame. I embraced the great Englishman. 
Madame blushed slightly. The great Englishman 
shook my hand like a mastiff. 

I be^Tjan in that dexterous, insinuatiuQ- manner, 
of which I am truly proud. I thought madame 
was ill. Ah, no. A cliange, then, was all that 
was required. I sat down at the piano and sang. 
In a few minutes madame retired. I was alone 
with my friend. 



174 NO TITLE. 

Seizing his hand, I began with every demon- 
stration of courteous sympathy; I do not repeat 
my words, for my intention was conveyed more in 
accent, emphasis, and manner, than speech. I 
hinted to him that he had another wife living. 
I suggested that this was balanced — ha ! — by 
his wife's lover. That, possibly, he wished to fly ; 
hence the letting of his delightful mansion. That 
he regularly and systematically beat his wife in 
the English manner, and that she repeatedly de- 
ceived me. I talked of hope, of consolation, of 
remedy. I carelessly produced a bottle of strych- 
nine and a small vial of stramonium from my 
pocket, and enlarged on the efficiency of drugs. 
His face, which had gradually become convulsed, 
suddenly became fixed with a frightful expression. 
He started to his feet, and roared : " You d — d 
Frenchman ! " 

I instantly changed my tactics, and endeavored 
to embrace him. He kicked me twice, violently. 
I begged permission to kiss madame's hand. He 
replied by throwing me down stairs. 

I am in bed with my head bound up, and beef- 
steaks upon my eyes, but still confident and buoy- 



NO TITLE. 175 

ant. I have not lost faitli in Macchiavelli. Tra 
la la ! as they sing in the opera. I kiss every- 
body's hands. 



CHAPTER V. 

DR. DIGGS'S STATEMENT. 

My name is David Diggs. I am a surgeon, liv- 
ing at 1^0. 9 Tottenham Court. On the 15th of 
June, 1854, I was called to see an elderly gentle- 
man lodging on the Kent Eoad. Found him 
highly excited, with strong febrile symptoms, 
pulse 120, increasing. Repeated incoherently 
what I judged to be the popular form of a co- 
nundrum. On closer examination found acute 
hydrocephalus and both lobes of the brain rapidly 
filling with water. In consultation with an emi- 
nent phrenologist, it was further discovered that 
all the organs were more or less obliterated, except 
that of Comparison. Hence the patient was en- 
abled to only distinguish the most common points 
of resemblance between objects^, without drawing 
upon other faculties, such as Ideality or Language, 



176 NO TITLE. 

for assistance. Later in the day found him sink- 
ing, — being evidently unable to carry the most 
ordinary conundrum to a successful issue. Exhib- 
ited Tinct. Val., Ext. Opii, and Camphor, and pre- 
scribed quiet and emollients. On the 17th the 
patient was missing. 



CHAPTER LAST. 

STATEMENT OF THE PUBLISHER. 

On the 18th of June, Mr. Wilkie Collins left a 
roll of manuscript with us for publication, without 
title or direction, since which time he has not 
been heard from. In spite of the care of the 
proof-readers, and valuable literary assistance, it 
is feared that the continuity of the story has been 
destroyed by some accidental misplacing of chap- 
ters during its progress. How and what chapters 
are so misplaced, the publisher leaves to an indul- 
gent public to discover. 



.N K 



BEING A NOVEL IN THE FRENCH PARAGRAPHIC STYLE. 



— Mademoiselle, I swear to you that I love 
you. 

— You who read these pages. You who turn 
your burning eyes upon these words — words that 
I trace — Ah, Heaven! the thought maddens 
me. 

— I will be calm. I will imitate the reserve of 
the festive Englishman, who wears a spotted hand- 
kerchief which he calls a BelcMo, who eats hiftch, 
and caresses a bulldog. I will subdue myself like 
him. 

— Ha ! Poto-beer ! All right — Goddam ! 

— Or, I will conduct myself as the free-born 
American — the gay Brother Jonathan ! I will 
whittle me a stick. I will whistle to myself 



178 N N. 

" Yankee Doodle," and forget my passion in exces- 
sive expectoration. 

— Hoho ! — wake snakes and walk chalks. 



The world is divided into two great divisions, — 
Paris and the provinces. There is but one Paris. 
There are several provinces, among which may be 
numbered England, America, Russia, and Italy. 

N K was a Parisian. 

But N N. did not live in Paris. Drop a Paris- 
ian in the provinces, and you drop a part of Paris 
with him. Drop him in Senegambia, and in three 
days he ^ill give you an omelette soufflee, or a pate 
clefoie gras, served by the neatest of Senegambian 
filles, whom he will call Mademoiselle. In three 
weeks he will give you an opera. 

N N". was not dropped in Senegambia, but in 
San Francisco, — quite as awkward. 

They find gold in San Francisco, but they don't 
understand gilding. 

N N. existed three years in this place. He be- 
came bald on the top of his head, as all Parisians 
do. Look down from your box at the Opera 
Comique, Mademoiselle, and count the bald ciowns 



N N. 179 

of tlie fast young men in the pit. Ah — you 
tremble ! They show where the arrows of love 
have struck and glanced off. 

'N 'N. A^'as also near-sighted, as all Parisians 
finally become. This is a gallant provision of Na- 
ture to spare them the mortification of observing 
that their lady friends grow old. After a certain 
age every woman is handsome to a Parisian. 

One day, N N. was walking down Washington 
street. Suddenly he stopped. 

He was standing before the door of a mantua- 
maker. Beside the counter, at the farther extrem- 
ity of the shop, stood a young and elegantly formed 
woman. Her face was turned from N N. He 
entered. With a plausible excuse, and seeming in- 
difference, he gracefully opened conversation with 
the mantuamaker as only a Parisian can. But he 
had to deal with a Parisian. His attempts to view 
the features of the fair stranger by the counter were 
deftly combated by the shop- wo man. He was 
obliged to retire. 

N N. went home and lost his appetite. He was 
haunted by the elegant basque and graceful shoul- 
ders of the fair unknown, during the whole night. 



180 N N. 

The next day he sauntered by the mantua- 
maker. Ah ! Heavens I A thrill ran through his 
frame, and his fingers tingled with a dehcioiis elec- 
tricity. The fair inconnue was there ! He raised 
his hat gracefully. He was not certain, but he 
thought that a slight motion of her faultless bon- 
net betrayed recognition. He would have wildly 
darted into the shop, but just then the figure of 
the mantuamaker appeared in the doorway. 

— Did Monsieur wish anything ? 

Misfortune ! Desperation. N N". purchased a 
bottle of Prussic acid, a sack of charcoal, and a 
quire of pink note-paper, and returned home. He 
wrote a letter of farewell to the closely fitting 
basque, and opened the bottle of Prussic acid. 

Some one knocked at his door. It was a China- 
man, with his weekly linen. 

These Chinese are docile, but not intelligent. 
They are ingenious, but not creative. They are 
cunning in expedients, but deficient in tact. In 
love they are simj^ly barbarous. They purchase 
their wives openly, and not constructively by at- 
torney. By offering small sums for their sweet- 
hearts, they degrade the value of the sex. 



N N. 



181 



Nevertheless, N N. felt lie was saved. He ex- 
plained all to the faithful Mongolian, and exhibited 
the letter he had written. He implored him to 
deliver it. 

The Mongolian assented. The race are not 
cleanly or sweet- savored, but N N. fell upon his 
neck. He embraced him with one hand, and 
closed his nostrils with the other. Through him, 
he felt he clasped the close-fitting basque. 

The next day was one of agony and suspense. 
Evening came, but no Mercy. N N. lit the char- 
coal. But, to compose his nerves, he closed his 
door and first walked mildly up and down Mont- 
o-omery Steeet. When he returned, he found the 
faithful Mongolian on the steps. 

— AUlity! 

These Chinese are not accurate in their pronun- 
ciation. They avoid the r, like the English noble- 
man. 

N N. gasped for breath. He leaned heavily 

against the Cliinaman. 

— Then you have seen her, Ching Long ? 

— Yes. All lity. She cam. Top side of house. 
The docile barbarian pointed up the stairs, and 

chuckled. 



182 N N. 

— She here — impossible! Ah, Heaven ! do I 
dream ? 

— Yes. All lity, — top side of house. Good 
by, John. 

This is the familiar parting epithet of the Mon- 
golian. It is equivalent to our ait rcvoir. 

N N. gazed with a stupefied air on the depart- 
ing servant. 

He placed his hand on his throbbing heart. She 
here, — alone beneath this roof. Heavens, — 
Avhat happiness ! 

But how ? Torn from her home. Euthlessly 
dragged, perhaps, from her evening devotions, by 
the hands of a relentless barbarian. Could she 
forgive him ? 

He dashed frantically up the stairs. He opened 
the door. She was standing beside his couch with 
averted face. 

A strange giddiness overtook him. He sank upon 
his knees at the threshold. 

— Pardon, pardon. My angel, can you forgive 
me ? 

A terrible nausea now seemed added to the fear- 
ful giddiness. His utterance grew thick and slug- 
gish. 



N N. 183 

— Speak, speak, enclmntress. Forgiveness is all 
I ask. My Love, my Life ! 

She did not answer. He staggered to his feet. 
As he rose, his eyes fell on the pan of buri;iing 
charcoal. A terrible suspicion flashed across his 
mind. This giddiness, — this nausea. The igno- 
rance of the barbarian. This silence. merciful 
heavens ! she was dying ! 

He crawled toward her. He touched her. She 
fell forward with a lifeless sound upon the floor. 
He uttered a piercing shriek, and threw himself 
beside her. 

***** 

A file of gendarmes, accompanied by the Chef 
Burke, found him the next morning lying lifeless 
upon the floor. They laughed brutally, — these 
cruel minions of the law, — and disengaged his 
arm from the waist of the wooden dummy which 
they had come to reclaim for the mantuamaker. 

Emptying a few bucketfuls of water over his 
form, they finally succeeded in robbing him, not 
only of his mistress, but of that Death he had 
coveted without her. 

Ah ! we live in a strange world, Messieurs. 



FANTINE 



AFTER THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO. 



PROLOGUE. 

As long as there shall exist three paradoxes, a moral 
Frenchman, a religious Atheist, and a believing sceptic ; 
so long, in fact, as booksellers shall wait — say twenty-five 
years — for a new gospel ; so long as paper shall remain 
cheap and ink three sous a bottle, I have no hesitation in 
saying that such books as these are not utterly profitless. 

Victor Hugo. 
I. 

To be good is to be queer. What is a good 
man ? Bishop Myriel. 

My friend, you will possibly object to this. You 
will say you know what a good man is. Perhaps 
you will say your clergyman is a good man, for 
instance. 

Bah I you are mistaken ; you are an English- 
man, and an Englishman is a beast. 

Englishmen think they are moral when they are 



FANTINE. 185 

only serious. These Englishmen also wear ill- 
shaped hats, and dress horribly! 

Bah ! they are canaille. 

Still, Bishop Myriel was a good man, — quite as 
good as you. Better than you, in fact. 

One day M. Myriel was in Paris. This a^gel 
used to walk about tlie streets like any other man. 
He was not proud, though fine-looking. Well, 
three gamins de Paris called him bad names. Says 
one : — 

" Ah, mon JDieu ! there goes a priest ; look out 
for your eggs and chickens ! " 

What did this good man do ? He called to them 
kindly. 

" My children," said he, " this is clearly not your 
fault. I recognize in this insult and irreverence 
only the fault of your immediate progenitors. Let 
us pray for your immediate progenitors." 

They knelt down and prayed for their immediate 
progenitors. 

The effect was touching. 

The Bishop looked calmly around. 

" On reflection," said he, gravely, " I was mis- 
ta^ken ; this is clearly the fault of Society. Let us 
pray for Society." 



186 FANTINE. 

They knelt down and prayed for Society. 

The effect was sublimer yet. Wliat do you 
think of that ? You, I mean. 

Everybody remembers the story of the Bishop 
and Mother ISTez Eetrousse. Old Mother ISTez Ee- 
trogsse sold asparagus. She was poor ; there 's a 
great deal of meaning in that word, my friend. 
Some people say " poor but honest." I say, Bah ! 

Bishop Myriel bought six bunches of asparagus. 
This good man had one charming failing ; he was 
fond of asparagus. He gave her a franc and re- 
ceived three sous change. 

The sous were bad, — counterfeit. What did this 
good Bishop do ? He said : " I sliould not have 
taken change from a poor woman." 

Then afterwards, to his housekeeper : " ISTever 
take change from a poor w^oman." 

Then he added to himself : " For the sous will 
probably be bad." 

II. 

Whex a man commits a crime, society claps him 
in prison. A prison is one of the worst hotels im- 
aginable. The people there are low and vulgar. 



FANTINE. 187 

The butter is bad, the coffee is green. Ah, it is 
horrible ! 

In prison, as in a bad hotel, a man soon loses, 
not only his morals, but what is much worse to a 
Frenchman, his sense of refinement and delicacy. 

Jean Valjean came from prison with confused 
notions of society. He forgot the modern pecu- 
liarities of hospitality. So he walked off with the 
Bishop's candlesticks. 

Let us consider : candlesticks were stolen ; that 
was evident. Society put Jean Valjean in prison ; 
that was evident, too. In prison, Society took 
away his refinement ; that is evident, likewise. 

Who is Society ? 

You and I are Society. 

My friend, you and I stole those candlesticks ! 



III. 

The Bishop thought so, too. He meditated 
profoundly for six days. On the morning of the 
seventh he went to the Prefecture of Police. 

He said : " jMonsieur, have me arrested. I have 
stolen candlesticks." 



188 FANTINE. 

The official was governed by the law of Societ}^, 
and refused. 

What did this Bishop do ? 

He had a charming ball and chain made, affixed 
to his leg, and wore it the rest of his life. 

This is a fact ! 

IV. 

Love is a mystery. 

A little friend of mine down in the country, at 
Auvergne, said to me one day : " Victor, Love is 
the world, — it contains everything." 

She was only sixteen, this sharp-witted little 
girl, and a beautiful blonde. She thought every- 
thing of me. 

Fantine was one of those women who do wrong 
in the most virtuous and touching manner. This 
is a peculiarity of French grisettes. 

You are an Englishman, and you don't under- 
stand. Learn, my friend, learn. Come to Paris 
and improve your morals. 

Fantine was the soul of modesty. She always 
wore high-neck dresses. High-neck dresses are a 
sign of modesty. 



FANTINE. 189 

Fantine loved Tholmoyes. Why? My God! 
What are you to do ? It was the fault of her 
parents, and she had n't any. How shall you 
teach her ? You must teach the parent if you 
wish to educate the child. How would you be- 
come virtuous ? 

Teach your grandmother ! 



When Tholmoyes ran away from Fantine, — 
which was done in a charming, gentlemanly 
manner, — Fantine became convinced that a rigid 
sense of propriety might look upon her conduct as 
immoral. She was a creature of sensitiveness, — 
and her eyes were opened. 

She was virtuous still, and resolved to break off 
the liaison at once. 

So she put up her wardrobe and baby in a 
bundle. Child as she was, she loved them both. 
Then left Paris. 

VI. 

Fantine's native place had changed. 

M. Madeline — an angel, and inventor of jet- 



190 FANTINE. 

work — had been teaching the villagers how to 
make spurious jet. 

This is a progressive age. Those Americans, — 
children of the West, — they make nutmegs out 
of wood. 

I, myself, have seen hams made of pine, in the 
wigwams of those children of the forest. 

But civilization has acquired deception too. 
Society is made up of deception. Even the best 
Trench society. 

Still there was one sincere episode. 

Eh? 

The French Eevolution ! 

VII. 

M. Madeline was, if anything, better than 
Myriel. 

M. Myriel was a saint. M. Madeline a good 
man. 

M. Myriel was dead. M. Madeline was living. 

That made all the difference. 

M. Madeline made virtue profitable. I have 
seen it written : — 

" Be virtuous and you will be happy." 



FANTINE. 191 

Where did I see this written ? In the modern 
Bible ? No. In the Koran ? No. In Eousseaii ? 
No. Diderot? No. Where then ? 

In a copy-book. 

VIII. 

M. Madeline was M. le Maire. 

This is how it came about. 

For a long time he refused the honor. One day 
an old woman, standing on the steps, said : — 

" Bah, a good mayor is a good thing. 

" You are a good thing. 

" Be a good mayor." 

This woman was a rhetorician. She understood 
inductive ratiocination. 

IX. 

When this good M. Madeline, whom the reader 
will perceive must have been a former convict, 
and a very bad man, gave himself up to justice 
as the real Jean Valjean, about this same time, 
Fantine was turned away from the manufactory, 
and met with a number of losses from society. 
Society attacked her, and this is what she lost : — 



192 FANTINE. 

First her lover. 
Then her child. 
Then her place. 
Then her hair. 
Then her teeth. 
Then her liberty. 
Then her lite. 

What do you think of society after that ? I 
tell you the present social system is a humbug. 

X. 

This is necessarily the end of Fantine. 

There are other things that will be stated in 
otliei* volumes to follow. Don't be alarmed ; 
there are plenty of miserable people left. 

Au rcvoir — my friend. 



"LA FEMME." 

AFTER THE FRENCH OF M. MICHELET. 



WOMEN AS AN INSTITUTION. 

" If it were not for women, few of us would at 
present be in existence." This is the remark of a 
cautious and discreet WTiter. He was also sago.- 
cious and intelligent. 

Woman ! Look upon her and admire her. Gaze 
upon her and love her. If she wishes to embrace 
you, permit her. Eemember she is weak and you 
are strong. 

But don't treat her unkindly. Don't make love 
to another woman before her face, even if slie be 
your wife. Don't do it. Always be polite, even 
should she fancy somebody better than you. 

If your mother, my dear Amadis, had not fan- 
cied 3^our father better than somebody, you might 



194 "LA FEMME," 

have been that somebody's son. Consider this. 
Always be a philosopher, even about women. 

Few men understand women. Frenchmen, per- 
haps, better than any one else. I a^ a French- 
man. 



11. 

THE INFANT. 

She is a child — a little thing — an infant. 

She has a mother and father. Let ns suppose, 
for example, they are married. Let us be moral 
if we cannot be happy and free — they are mar- 
ried — perhaps — they love one another — who 
knows ? 

But she knows nothing of this ; she is an infant 
- — a small thing — a trifle ! 

She is not lovely at first. It is cruel, perhaps, 
but she is red, and positively ugly. She feels this 
keenly and cries. She weeps. Ah, my God, how 
she weeps ! Her cries and lamentations now are 
really distressing. 

Tears stream from her in floods. She feels 
deeply and copiously like M. Alphonse de La- 
martin e in his Confessions. 



/'LA FEMME." 195 

If you are lier mother, Madame, you will fancy 
worms ; you will examine lier linen for pins, and 
what not. Ah, liypocrite ! you, even you, misun- 
derstand* her. 

Yet she has charming natural impulses. See 
how she tosses her dimpled arms. She looks 
longingly at her motlier. She has a language of 
her own. She says, " goo goo," and " ga ga." 

She demands something — this infant ! 

She is faint, poor thing. She famishes. She 
wishes to be restoi-ed. Eestore her, Mother ! 

It is the first duty of a mother to restore her 
child ! 



III. 

THE DOLL. 



She is hardly able to walk j she already totters 
under the weight of a doll. 

It is a charming and elegant affair. It has 
pink cheeks and purple-black hair. She prefers 
brunettes, for she has already, with the quick 
knowledge of a French infant, perceived she is a 
blonde, and that her doll cannot rival her. Mon 



196 "LA FEMME." 

Dicu, how toucliing ! Happy child ! She spends 
hours ill preparing its toilet. She begins to 
show her taste in the exquisite details of its dress. 
She loves it madly, devotedly. She \d\\ prefer it 
to honhons. She already anticipates the wealth of 
love she will hereafter pour out on her lover, her 
mother, her father, and finally, perhaps, her hus- 
band. 

This is the time the anxious parent will guide 
these first outpourings. She will read her extracts 
from Michelet's L Amour, Eousseau's Heloise, and 
the Bevuc clcs deux Mondcs. 



IV. 

THE MUD PIE. 



She was in tears to-da}^ 

She had stolen away from her honnc and was 
with some rustic infants. They had noses in the 
air, and large, coarse hands and feet. 

They had seated themselves around a pool in the 
road, and were fashioning fantastic shapes in the 
clayey soil with their hands. Her throat swelled 



" LA FEMME." 197 

and lier eyes sparkled with delight as, for the first 
time, her soft palms touched the plastic mud. She 
made a graceful and lovely pie. She stuffed it 
with stones for almonds and plums. She forgot 
everything. It was being baked in the solar rays, 
when madame came and took her away. 

She weeps. It is night, and she is weeping still. 



V. 

HER FIRST LOVE. 



She no longer doubts her beauty. She is loved. 

She saw him secretly. He is vivacious and 
sprightly. He is famous. He has already had an 
affair with Finfin, the filh de cliamhrc, and poor 
rinfin is desolate. He is noble. She knows he is 
the son of Madame la Baronne Couturiere. She 
adores him. 

She affects not to notice him. Poor little thing ! 
Hippolyte is distracted — annihilated — inconsola- 
ble and charming. 

She admires his boots, his cravat, his little gioA^es 
— his exquisite pantaloons — his coat, and cane. 



198 "LA FEMME." 

She offers to run away with him. He is trans- 
ported, but magnanimous. He is wearied, perhaps. 
She sees liim the next day offering flowers to the 
daughter of Madame la Comtesse Blanchisseuse. 

She is again in tears. 

She reads Paul ct Virginic. She is secretly trans- 
ported. When she reads how the exemplary young 
woman laid down her life rather than appear en 
deshabille to her lover, she weeps again. Taste- 
ful and virtuous Bernardine de St. Pierre ! — the 
daughters of France admire you ! 

All this time her doll is headless in the cabinet. 
The mud pie is broken on the road. 



VI. 

THE WIFE. 

She is tired of loving and slie marries. 

Her mother thinks it, on the whole, the best 
thing. As the day approaches, she is found fre- 
quently in tears. Her mother Avill not permit the 
afllianced one to see her, and he makes several at- 
tempts to commit suicide. 



"LA FEMME." 199 

But something hapjiens. Perhaps it is winter, 
and the water is cold. Perhaps tliere are not 
enough people present to witness his heroism. 

In this way her future husband is spared to her. 
The ways of Providence are indeed mysterious. 
At this time her mother will talk with her. She 
wdll offer philosophy. She will tell her she was 
married herself. 

But what is this new and ravishing light that 
breaks upon her ? The toilet and wedding 
clothes ! She is in a new sphere. 

She makes out her list in her own charming 
writing. Here it is. Let every mother heed it.* 
* * * * 5^ 

***** 

She is married. On the day after, she meets her 
old lover, Hippolyte. He is again transported. 



VII. 

HER OLD AGE. 

A Frenchwoman never grows old. 

* The delicate reader will appreciate the omission of certain 
articles for Avhich English synonymes are forbidden. 



MARY M^^GILLUP. 
A SOUTHERN NOVEL. 

After BELLE BOYD. 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY G. A. S — LA. 



INTRODUCTION. 

" Will you write me up ? " 

The scene was near Temple Bar. The speaker was the 
famous rebel Mary McGillnp, — a young girl of fragile frame, 
and long, lustrous black hair. I must confess that the ques- 
tion was a peculiar one, and, under the circumstances, some- 
what puzzling: It was true I had been kindly treated by 
the Northerners, and, though prejudiced against them, was 
to some extent under obligations to them. It was true that 
I knew little or nothing of American politics, history, or 
geography. But when did an English writer ever weigh 
such trifles ? Turning to the speaker, I inquired with some 
caution the amount of pecuniary compensation offered for 
the work. 

" Sir ! " she said, drawing her fragile form to its full height, 
" you insult me, — you insult the South." 

"But look ye here, d' ye see — the tin — the blunt — the 



MAKY MCGILLUP. 201 

ready — the stiff, you know. Don't ye see, we can t do 
without that, you know ! " 

" It shall be contingent on the success of the story," she 
answered haughtily. " In the mean time take this precious 
gem." And drawing a diamond ring from her finger, she 
placed it Avith a roll of MSS. in my hands and vanished. 

Although unable to procure more than £1 2 s. 6 d. from 
an intelligent pawnbroker to whom I stated the circum- 
stances and Avith whom I pledged the ring, my sympathies 
with the cause of a downtrodden- and chivalrous people 
were at once enlisted. I could not help wondering that 
in rich England, the home of the oppressed and the free, a 
young and lovely woman like the fair author of those pages 
should be obliged to thus pawn her jewels — her marriage 
gift — for the means to procure her bread ! With the ex- 
ception of the English aristocracy, — Avho much resemble 
them, — I do not know of a class of people that I so much 
admire as the Southern planters. May I become better 
acquainted with both ! 

Since writing the above, the news of Mr. Lincoln's as- 
sassination has reached me. It is enough for me to say 
that I am dissatisfied with the result. I do not attempt to 
excuse the assassin. Yet there will be men who will 
charge this act upon the chivalrous South. This leads me 
to repeat a remark once before made by me in this connec- 
tion, which has become justly celebrated. It is this : — 

'' It is usual, in cases of murder, to look for the criminal 
9* 



202 MARY MCGILLUP. 

among those who expect to be benefited by the crime. In 
the death of Lincohi, his immediate successor in office alone 
receives the benefit of his dying." 

If her Majesty Queen Victoria were assassinated, which 
Heaven forbid, the one most benefited by her decease 
Avould, of course, be his Royal Highness the Prince of 
Wales, her immediate successor. It would be unnecessary 
to state that suspicion would at once point to the real 
culprit, which would of course be his Royal Highness. 
This is logic. 

But I have done. After having thus stated my opinion 
in favor of the South, I would merely remark that there is 
One who judgeth all things, — who weigheth the cause be- 
tween brother and brother, — and awardeth the perfect 
retribution; and whose ultimate decision I, as a British 

subject, have only anticipated. 

G. A. S. 



CHAPTER I. 



Every reader of Belle Boyd's narrative will re- 
member an allusion to a " lovely, fragile-looking 
girl of nineteen/' wlio rivalled Belle Boyd in devo- 
tion to the Southern cause, and who, like her, 
earned the enviable distinction of being a " rebel 

spy." 



MARY MCGILLUP. 203 

I am that " fragile " young creature. Although 
on friendly terms with the late Miss Boyd, now 
Mrs. Hardinge, candor compels me to state that 
nothing but our common politics prevents me 
from exposing the ungenerous spirit she has dis- 
played in this allusion. To be dismissed in a 
single paragraph after years of — But I anticipate. 
To put up with this feeble and forced acknowl- 
edgment of services rendered would be a confes- 
sion of a craven spirit, Avhich, thank God, though 
^'fragile " and only " nineteen^' I do not possess. 
I may not have the " hloocl of a Hoivard " in my 
veins, as some people, whom I shall not disgrace 
myself by naming, claim to have, but I have yet 
to learn that the race of McGillup ever yet brooked 
slight or insult. I shall not say that attention in 
certain quarters seems to have turned some people's 
heads ; nor that it would have been more delicate 
if certain folks had kept quiet on the subject of 
their courtship, and the rejection of certain offers, 
when it is known that their forward conduct 
was all that procured them a husband 1 Thank 
Heaven, the South has some daughters who are 
above such base considerations ! While nothing 



204 MARY MCGILLUP. 

shall tempt nie to reveal the promises to share 
equally the fame of certain enterprises, Avhicli 
were made by one who shall now be nameless, I 
have deemed it only just to myself to put my own 
adventures upon record. If they are not equal to 
those of another individual, it is because, though 
"fragile," my education has taught me to have 
some consideration for the truth. I am done. 



CHAPTER II. 

I WAS born in Missouri. My dislike for the 
I^orthern scum was inlierent. This was shown, at 
an early age, in the extreme distaste I exhibited 
for Webster's spelling-book, — the work of a well- 
known Eastern Abolitionist. I cannot be too grate- 
ful for the consideration shown by my chivalrous 
father, — a gentleman of the old school, — who 
resisted to the last an attempt to introduce Mitch- 
ell's Astronomy and Geography into the public 
school of our district. When I state that this 
same Mitchell became afterward a hirehng helot 
in the Yankee Army, every intelligent reader will 



MARY MCGILLUP. 205 

appreciate tlie prophetic discrimination of this true 
son of the South. 

I was eight years old when I struck the first 
blow for Southern freedom against the ISTorthern 
Tyrant. It is hardly necessary to state that in 
this instance the oppressor was a pale, overworked 
N'ew England " schoolmarm." The principle for 
which I was contending, I felt, however, to be the 
same. Eesenting an affront put upon me, I one 
day heaved a rock* at the head of the Vandal 
schoolmistress. I was seized and overpowered. 
My pen falters as I reach the climax. English 
readers will not give credit to this sickening story, 
— the civilized wojld will avert its head, — but I, 
Mary McGillup, was publicly* spakked 1 



CHAP.TER III. 

But the chaotic A^ortex of civil war approached, 
and fell destruction, often procrastinated, brooded 
in storm.-l- As the English people may like to 

* ISToTE, BY G. A. S. — In the Southwest, any stone larger 
than a pea is termed "a rock." 

+ I make no pretension to fine writing, but perhaps Mrs. 
Hardinge can lay over that. 0, of course ! ^I. McG. 



206 MARY MCGILLUP. 

know what was really the origin of the rebellion, 
I have no hesitation in giving them the true and 
only cause. Slavery had nothing to do with it, 
although the violation of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, in the disregard by the North of the 
Fugitive Slave Law,* might have provoked a less 
fiery people than the Southrons. At the inception 
of the struggle a large amount of Southern indebt- 
edness was held by the people of the ISTorth. To 
force payment from the generous but insolvent 
debtor — to obtain liquidation from the Southern 
planter — was really the soulless and mercenary 
object of the craven Northerners. Let the com- 
mon people of England look to this. Let the im- 
provident literary hack ; the starved impecunious 
Grub Street debtor ; the newspaper frequenter of 
sponging-houses, remember this in their criticisms 
of the vile and slavish Yankee. 

* The Declaration of Independence grants to eacli subject 
"the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness," A fugitive slave 
may be said to personify " life, liberty, and hajjpiness." Hence 
his pursuit is really legal. This is logic. G. A. S. 



MARY MCGILLUP, 207 



CHAPTER ly. 

The roasting of an Abolitionist, by a greatly 
infuriated community, was my first taste of the 
horrors of civil war. Heavens ! Why will the 
North persist in this fratricidal warfare ? Tlie 
expulsion of several Union refugees, which soon 
followed, now fairly plunged my beloved State in 
the seething vortex. 

I was sitting at the piano one afternoon, singing 
that stirring refrain, so justly celebrated, but which 
a craven spirit, unworthy of England, has excluded 
from some of her principal restaurants, and was 
dwelling with some enthusiasm on the following 
line : — 

" Huzza ! she spurns the Northern scum ! " 

when a fragment of that scum, clothed in that 
detestable blue uniform which is the symbol of 
oppression, entered the apartment. " I have the 
lienor of addressing the celebrated rebel spy, Miss 
McGillup," said the Vandal officer. 

In a moment I was perfectly calm. With the 



208 MAEY MCGILLUP. 

exception of slightly expectorating twice in the 
face of the minion, I did not betray my agitation. 
Haughtily, yet firmly, I replied : — 

" I am." 

" You looked as if you might be," the brute 
replied, as he turned on his heel to leave the 
aj)artment. . 

In an instant I threw myself before him. " You 
shall not leave here thus," I shrieked, grappling 
him with an energy which no one, seeing my frail 
figure, would have believed. " I know the reputa- 
tion of your hireling crew\ I read your dreadful 
purpose in your eye. Tell me not that your 
desims are not sinister. You came here to in- 

o 

suit me, — to kiss me, perhaps. You sha' n't, — 
you naughty man. Go away ! " 

TJie blush of conscious degradation rose to the 
cheek of the Lincoln hireling as he turned his face 
away from mine. 

In an instant I drew my pistol from my belt, 
which, in anticipation of some such outrage, I 
always carried, and shot him. 



MARY MCGILLUP. 209 



CHAPTER V. 

"Thy forte was less to act than speak, 

Maryland ! 
Thy politics Avere changed each Aveek, 

Maryland ! 
With Northern Vandals thou wast meek, 
With sympathizers thou wouldst shriek, 
I know thee — 0, 't Avas like thy cheek ! 

Maryland ! my Maryland ! " 

Aftei^ committing the act described in the pre- 
ceding chapter, which every English reader will 
pardon, 1 went up stairs, p)ut on a clean pair of 
stockings, and, placing a rose in my lustrous black 
hair, proceeded at once to the camp of Generals - 
Price and Mosby to put them in possession of in- 
formation which would lead to the destruction of 
a portion of the Federal Army. During a great 
part of my flight I was exposed to a running- 
fire from the Federal pickets of such coarse ex- 
pressions as, " Go it, Sally Eeb," " Dust it, my 
Confederate beauty," but I succeeded in reaching 
the glorious Southern camp uninjured. 



210 MARY MCGILLUP. 

In a week afterwards I was arrested, by a lettre 
cle cachet of Mr. Stanton, and placed in the Bastilc. 
British readers of my story will express surprise 
at these terms, but I assure them that not only 
these articles but tiimhrils, guillotines, and cojicicr- 
(/cries were in active use among the Federals. If 
» substantiation be required, I refer to the Charles- 
ton Mercury, the only reliable organ, next to 
the New York Dciily Neius, published in the coun- 
try. At the Bastile I made the acquaintance 
of the accomplished and elegant author of Guy 
Livingstone,^ to whom I presented a -curiously 
carved thigh-bone of a Union officer, and from 
whom I received the following beautiful acknowl- 
edgment : — 

" Demoiselle: — Should I ever win hame to my ain countrie, 
I make mine avow to enshrine in my reliquaire this elegant 
bijouterie and offering of La Belle Rehelle. Nay, mcthinks 
this fraction of man's anatomy Avere some compensation 
for the rib lost by the ' grand old gardener,' Adam." 

* The recent conduct of Mr. Livingstone renders him un- 
worthy of my notice. His disgusting praise of Belle Boyd, and 
complete ignoring of my claims, show the artfulness of some 
females and puppyism of some men. M. McG. 



MARY Mt-GILLUP. 211 



CHAPTER VI. 

Released at last from durance vile and placed 
on board of an Erie canal-boat, on my way to 
Canada, I for a moment breathed tlie sweets of 
liberty. Perhaps the interval gave me opportu- 
nity to indulge in certain reveries which I had 
hitherto sternly dismissed. Henry Breckinridge 
Folair, a consistent copperhead, captain of the 
canal-boat, again and again pressed that suit I 
had so often rejected. 

It w^as a lovely moonlight night. We sat on 
the deck of the gliding craft. The moonbeam and 
the lash of the driver fell softly on the flanks of 
the off horse, and only the surging of the tow-rope 
broke the silence. Folair's arm clasped my waist. 
I suffered it to remain. Placing in my lap a 
small but not ungrateful roll of checkerberry 
lozenges, he took the occasion to repeat softly in 
my ear the w^ords of a motto he had just un- 
wrapped — with its graceful covering of the tissue 
paper — from a sugar almond. The heart of the 
wicked little rebel, Mary McGillup, was won ! 



212 MARY MCGILLUP. 

Tlie story of Mary McGillup is done. I miglit 
have added the journal of my husband, Henry 
Breckinridge Folair, but as it refers chiefly to liis 
freights, and a schedule of his passengers, I liave 
been obliged, reluctantly, to suppress it. 

It is due to my friends to say that I liave been 
requested not to write this book. Expressions 
have reached my ears, the reverse of complimen- 
tary. I have been told that its publication will 
probably insure my banishment for life. Be it so. 
If the cause for which I labored have been sub- 
served, I am content. 

London, May, 1SC5. 



THE END. 



Cambridge : Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 



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